


Bond of Shadows

by MoreBooksLessBoys



Series: The Illyrian’s Mate Bonds [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mates, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 105,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoreBooksLessBoys/pseuds/MoreBooksLessBoys
Summary: Meridian spent over five hundred years imprisoned in Hybern. After the King is killed, she escapes and tries to go back to living a normal life. Rhysand made her a promise five hundred years ago so she finds her way to the Night Court where she is reunited with him and Mor. At the Night Court, she finds more than friendship and a job, she finds her mate. Unfortunately, her mate is in love with her friend and seems to want nothing to do with her.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Cassian & Original Female Character, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Tamlin & Original Female Character
Series: The Illyrian’s Mate Bonds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102613
Comments: 291
Kudos: 707





	1. The Spring Court

**Author's Note:**

> I should be updating my ongoing stories but here I am writing another 😅

The war with Hybern had ended, her torture had ended, yet she felt nothing as she walked through the green forest, free at last. She had escaped her cell when Hybern fell, all on her own for no one had found her—because no one had known to look for her. Her cell was well warded and the entrance hidden from anyone who had never entered. After she fled, she had to remain hidden for weeks so her powers could heal enough to even attempt winnowing out of the island. It had taken three weeks and even then she had not winnowed to the place she intended. She had landed in the forest, right along the palace were the wall that divided Prythian and the human lands had been—she had never seen it, but she could feel the trace of the power that had once been there. She had passed out the moment she landed and did not wake until the following day and when she did she was pinned against a tree, claws threatening to dig against her throat. He had forest green eyes and long blond hair. His face was beautiful but twisted into a snarl.

“Who are you?” He snarled.

Her body was still weak from winnowing, she could not even lift her hands to attempt a push at him. “You—are you the High Lord of the Spring Court?” She choked out. 

His snarling face eased into a frown. “Is that uncertainty?”

The High Lord's eyes were sharp and his claws nipped at her skin. He stared at her, at the blank face pale from lack of sunlight, not fear—there was no fear in her. He pressed his claws harder, as if to get a reaction out of her, but her face remained blank. She had endured worse things, a High Lord threatening to tear out her throat was nothing. 

As if deciding that she was not an imminent threat, he released her. She touched her neck, feeling the warm blood dripping down the small cuts where his claws had pressed in. 

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“Meridian,” she rasped, her throat sore. “I am only passing through. I tried winnowing but ended up in the wrong court. If you do not mind, I will walk through your lands and cross the northern border.” 

“Where did you intend to winnow to?” The High Lord, who had yet to introduce himself, questioned. 

“The Night Court.”

His face twisted in disdain, his forest green eyes darkened. Meridian wrecked her mind for his name but she could not recall. The king had spoken of him, but never by name. She had been gone before the treaty with the human queens was made, before the wall, before the second war and the collapse of the wall—before everything. She did not know who ruled the courts now, but she knew Rhysand was High Lord of the Night Court and he was the only one that could help. She had fought alongside him during the War and he had promised to welcome her in his father’s court when the War was over. But Meridian had been captured and never saw him again. 

“Did he send you to spy?” the High Lord demanded, yanking her already torn shirt and slamming her so hard against the tree she felt the barks dig into her back, drawing out a choked scream. 

Meridian had been too weak to defend herself, she had uselessly lifted her arms to shield her face. When he had been done he had dumped her in an empty room. There was a bathroom but she had been unable to drag herself from the floor to clean the claw marks across her arms. They were not deep, so it was not a concern as she had curled up on the floor and slept.

The morning after he had unlocked her door—to question her again no doubt—and stopped when he saw her in the same spot he had dumped her, the blood dry around her crawled arms. “I thought you would be gone,” his rough tone roused her from sleep. “There are no wards.” 

“I thought you might kill me if I tried,” her voice heavy with sleep. 

He eyed her clawed arms. “Why have they not healed?”

“They’ll heal in a week or two,” she guessed, sitting up. 

Something had flashed across his eyes—a flicker of regret. His throat bobbed. “Did I—they are not that deep, are they? You are High Fae, they should be healing—they should have healed overnight.”

“I don’t heal,” had been her flat answer.

He had walked right out the room. 

She had showered, longing to stay in the water for longer than the ten minutes she gave herself, but she did not want to risk the High Lord walking in. But he had, not to the bathroom but to the bedroom because when she walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body, there had been several pairs of pants and plain tunic shirts for her to wear. She had worn simple black pants and a white tunic shirt that fit like a dress. The pants were too big as well, slipped right down her hips and legs, but she had tied and tucked in her shirt and then held them with a belt. The boots were huge, she had almost tripped down the stairs when he called her down. 

She had not seen the manor when he had brought her in, but glass and splinters of wood cracked under her boots. The High Lord was sitting in what must have once been a grand dining room, but now was a trashed room with peeling wallpapers and broken furniture. The table had a long crack at the middle and one end of it was missing altogether, she had no idea how it was still standing—perhaps it was magic. The High Lord sat at the head of the table and in front of him there were three bowls of food. Roasted meat—she could not quite tell if those were rabbits—and a bowl of red apples and one of uncooked carrots. 

Meridian had sat in the only other chair that wasn’t broken, the one at his right. The High Lord glanced at her half-covered arms. The crawl wounds peeking through the sleeves that went a little past her elbows. 

“Thank you for the clothes,” she said politely. 

A simple nod.

“Are they your own, High Lord?” She inquired. 

The High Lord glanced up at her face and then his eyes trailed down her body, noting how she had tucked in the too-long pants into the boots and how the collar was too loose around her neck, exposing her shoulders. “Yes.”

“I am honored.”

The High Lord looked away from her, probably taking her flat tone as sarcasm, which perhaps it was—she couldn’t even tell herself. He served himself meat and dug right in.

“You are not a spy,” he stated flatly as she served some meat on her own plate.

The meat was dry and there were no spices, the High Lord must have simply impaled it on a stick and roasted it. He watched her eat, but her face betrayed nothing. It was meat, it was food, way better than the gruel they had fed her for centuries on and off. 

“I am not a spy,” she confirmed. 

She told him about the War and her imprisonment in Hybern and he had believed when he realized she knew nothing of the courts and life in Prythian or the wall. That all she had was a map she had stolen when she escaped so she could know the layout of the courts and what borders she had to cross to reach the Night Court.

“Why the Night Court?” He asked.

“Rhysand offered me a place at his court,” she answered. “It was five hundred years ago, but I know that his offer holds.”

“Then you should go,” he said, “I do not want any tides to the Night Court.”

“Will you at least tell me your name?”

“Tamlin.”

She had not found him anywhere in the manor after that, not for the remainder of the day. But as the sun disappeared from the sky, she heard footsteps outside her room. A knock. She answered the door. Tamlin stood there, holding a plate of meat and chopped carrots and a glass of wine. 

“I had left enough for you to have dinner,” he told her, “why didn’t you eat?”

Meridian had stared at the plate and then at him. “You were gone all day and I forgot.”

“You forgot?” He grunted. 

“I never ate more than one meal per day,” she whispered and took the food from him. She walked over to the vanity and set it there. “Thank you.”

She heard him walk in the room and when she turned to face him he was only a step away. Meridian did not flinch as he grabbed her arm, face pitched as he stared at the cuts on her arms. “Why are you not healing?” 

“I heal slowly,” she answered simply. 

He dropped her hand and stalked out of the room. Meridian stared after him for a moment and then turned to the meal he had brought her. She ate slowly, her body used to the hollowed part of her stomach that never filled out. To her surprise, the High Lord returned, holding a small jar on his palm. 

He set the jar on the vanity next to her plate. “Put this over the cuts,” he instructed her. “Eat first, if you want another helping there is more meat in the kitchen.”

She nodded, though she doubted her stomach could handle more without vomiting. Tamlin turned to leave but he stopped before he reached the door. “Why do you heal so slowly?”

Meridian set the silver fork down and turned to him. “Ash wood,” she explained, “they tortured me with it and left splinters on my back. It slows down my healing—it slows me down.”

He had helped her, food forgotten after he offered to dig the splinters out. An hour later, Meridian gripped the bathtub tightly, her knuckles white, as Tamlin picked at her skin, digging to the flesh to get the ash wood splinters out, pressing a wet towel to her back when her blood covered his sight. She screamed and trashed but told him to keep going—it was a relief to be able to scream after centuries of holding it in. He managed to take out several splinters, too many, yet there were still more left. But Tamlin had stopped, barely making it to the toilet before emptying his stomach. He had refused to go on, not when she had already passed out once and came to only to scream in pain again, not when he could not stand to see her marred back anymore. 

He had cleaned her back the best he could and helped her to bed, lay her on her stomach and smeared the ointment he had brought for her. 

“You can stay until you heal enough for you to travel,” he said. “When you leave, find a healer to get the rest out.”

As he spoke, Tamlin had kept his eyes away from her back. She would never let a male see her, she would never be intimate with a male, she would never feel affection and she would never be desired. At the moment, she could not bring herself to care. 

Two weeks later, she had managed to get up from the bed and cooked the rabbits Tamlin had hunted for supper. She had found enough spices to at least give it some kind of taste and the following day he had brought in birds, which she had roasted and the day after that there were more rabbits and she had found enough ingredients to make a stew. 

Tamlin had found clothes and shoes for her that were still big on her but not as much as his own clothes. 

After another week, Meridian thanked Tamlin for his hospitality and told him she was leaving in two days. He had grunted in response and finished his dinner before walking out. But the next day he marked her map with the route she should take to the Summer Court—because she should avoid the Autumn Court, he had told her firmly. The Winter Court was brutal if she intended to travel by foot, he had warned her. So he advised her to wear layers and try winnowing if she could because she would not survive the brutal cold or the bears that roamed free.

Tamlin had told her to take whatever she wanted. She had only taken clean clothes, dark brown pants and a white tunic shirt, and extra layers for the Winter Court. The boots were new and leather, better than the worn shoes she had found and stolen when she escaped her cell in Hybern or the ones that had been way too big on her feet when she first arrived. She had packed a bag with apples and cut meat and plenty of water. Tamlin had not seen her off and he had never apologized for the injuries he inflicted when he believed she was a spy. She had left him a warm meal.

To avoid any misunderstanding at the Summer Court, Meridian had approached the first guard she saw and asked if she was allowed to pass through the land. The guard had looked at her suspiciously but had not engaged in a fight. He had told her she could pass through the Summer Court freely as long as she did not stir trouble. It had taken her a week to reach the border to the Winter Court. The Winter Court was brutal, she wore layers and layers but after hours of walking in the ice she couldn’t feel her toes. So she risked it. She would not die in the cold after five hundred years of imprisonment. 

So she winnowed. She had preserved her power for a month, never using any during her stay at the Spring Court and her journey through the Summer Court. Tamlin had also taken most of the ash wood splinters out, so she sent a prayer and hoped it made a difference. It did. She winnowed to the border of the Day and Night Court. 

Her white, color drained hair stuck to her neck and face as she threw up all the contents of her stomach over rough stone. She ignored the aches of her body and kept walking down the mountain until her knees gave up and she collapsed. 

  
  


It was dark, stars illuminating the night sky when she was lifted by muscular arms. She flinched, but did not dare move or open her eyes. 

Meridian told herself to keep her pale grey eyes closed, she couldn’t move and she couldn’t fight so she took her mind somewhere far away. They could do whatever they wanted with her, it wouldn’t crack her heart more than it already was because she was already empty inside. 

But she did open her eyes when the male carrying her soared into the sky, the wind pickled her skin. She gripped the male’s shirt—their leathers tightly. 

“If you wish to kill me,” she rasped, “do it while the stars are still out.”

“I don’t mean to kill you,” the male snorted. 

She let go of their leather clothes. “Then if you’re going to use me, beat me unconscious first.” 

The male choked, his chest going rigid against her. “I’m sorry.”

She had not heard those words in more than five hundred years. 

Meridian woke up in a large comfortable bed, the marble floors were cold under her feet as she stood and walked towards the window a few feet from the bed. She opened the curtains and instantly shut her eyes at the sunlight that stabbed her pale eyes. Her head throbbed so she shut the curtains and turned away from the window. She could see nothing now that her eyes had been assaulted by the brightness outside, so she padded her way around the room until she found a door and opened it. Gentler light poured in, illuminating the room. There was a large armoire and a vanity table at the other side of the room and at the other end there was a low table and an armchair. There was no pain in any part of her body, giving her room to wonder if she had been found by a good male or if it was now to be some Lord's play thing. 

Meridian could not find any relief or despair, her face remaining blank. She left the room and walked down the hall and to the sound of multiple voices. It sounded like a male and a female arguing while others intervened with amused tones. Meridian was almost there when two smokey figures appeared at either side of her.

“You must get dressed first,” the one at her right said, her voice a faint whisper.

Meridian looked down at herself, she was wearing a light blue nightgown that almost reached her knees. It was sleeveless, save for the satin straps that held it up on her shoulders. 

“Where am I?” She asked, voice flat.

“You are at the House of Wind,” the one at her left replied.

“What Court?”

“You are in the Night Court.”

“Is Rhysand really High Lord?”

The twins—she realized their pretty faces were identical—shared a brief look of confusion, then nodded at once. “Rhysand is the High Lord the Night Court.”

Meridian walked past them and entered what appeared to be a dining room. Everyone’s heads turned to her and there he was, Rhysand sat at the long table, a High Fae female with golden-brown hair at his side and another with blonde hair across from him—the Morrigan. 

“Is this the female you found at the border?” Rhysand’s question was directed at a male sitting three chairs down from him. He had wings tucked behind his back, an Illyrian—not one but two, as there was another sitting across him. 

Meridian stared at him, not at the one who had apparently found her but at the one that was blending into shadows. Her chest ached.

“Could you tell us your name?” 

She realized they had been talking to her and this was the second time they asked for her name. She tore her gaze away from the shadowsinger and looked directly at Rhysand. “Do you not remember?” 

Her voice sounded hurt. It was a silver of emotion at last and it almost made her throw up. 

Mor bolted from her chair, eyes wide. “Idrian?”

Her friend pulled her into a hug, her arms so tight around her it was difficult to breathe. Over her shoulder, she saw Rhysand choke on his food and stand up from his chair. “Meridian?”

Mor pulled away, her brown eyes inspecting her face and her hands running down her hair. “Your hair—“ she gasped “—it's white. Your eyes, what the hell happened to you?”

“I thought you were dead,” Rhysand and the female that had been sitting next to him approached. “Your name was in the list.”

Mor nodded her head, her eyes glazed. “You were on the list. We thought you were dead. Where were you?” She demanded. “Did you go back to Vellahan?”

“I was in Hybern,” she said.

Mor’s hands dropped to her sides, her eyes wide in shock.

“I was there,” she said, her voice flat, “under his castle. On a cell. Locked for centuries and no one ever came to get me out and he never let me go.”

Mor and the golden-brown haired female looked horrified, Rhysand had gone still, his face white as her hair and the other two males were now standing as well while the other two females remained sitting, but their faces reflected pure shock.

“You—you were imprisoned for five hundred years?” One of the females who remained sitting stammered, her voice was laced with terror, eyes brown as a doe.

“You were locked under his castle?” The female standing next to Rhysand muttered. Meridian became aware of the resemblance between her and the female who had spoken before her. 

Meridian tilted her head to the side. “Feyre,” she tested her name. The beautiful female nodded. Feyre. “He talked about you. You killed Dagdan and Brannagh.”

“I did,” she nodded.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she bowed her head, “I hope you made it hurt.”

“Mother above,” the Illyrian who had found her cursed, “you’re saying that you were locked up in Hybern for five hundred years?” She nodded. He turned to Mor and Rhysand. “Meridian, that was the shadowsinger you met in the war?”

“I am not a shadowsinger,” she said, her eyes sliding to the Illyrian shadowsinger in the room. He was looking at her quietly, shadows embracing his shoulders. 

Meridian’s fingers twitched in longing to reach for them. Mor was looking at her with an incredulous look. “What do you mean you’re not a shadowsinger?”

The white haired High Fae did not tear her eyes off the shadows around the Illyrian as she explained. “He tossed me in the cauldron to try to repair it, he said that if Feyre’s sister had taken something from it, I would give it what I had. It took the shadows from me.”

“I am sorry,” Rhysand’s voice was strained. “I know how much you loved them.”

She shrugged. “They wouldn’t come to me anyways. Not while I was down there, with so many spells and with them feeding me faebane.” 

“I am sorry,” Mor whispered, her warm fingers touching her chin. It was wet. Her cheeks were wet with tears as her eyes remained on the Illyrian shadowsinger and he shadows curling around him.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The Illyrian who had found her stepped forward, he was looking behind her, at the twins that stood silently a few feet away. “Nuala and Cerridwen said you were badly injured. A healer is coming in a few hours.”

“I am not injured,” she stated. 

The Illyrian frowned and looked at the twins, Nuala and Cerridwen. The twins exchanged looks. “Your back is badly injured. We cleaned the wounds and that we left you on your side because the injuries look painful.”

Mor was about to pull her hair to the side, but Meridian flinched away. The sleeping gown, she realized, was cut low at her back and the only thing covering her scarred skin was her curtain of white hair. “It is ash wood, it does not heal.”

“Ash wood?” Mor stared at her horrified. 

“Dagdan and Brannagh,” she explained, “they left splinters in so it wouldn’t heal. I dug some out with my own nails but it didn’t do much good. The High Lord of the Spring Court tried but couldn’t take all of them out, but there shouldn’t be many left.” 

“The Spring Court?” Feyre gaped. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I entered Prythian through the Spring Court. The High Lord caught me—I suppose,” she glanced at Rhysand, “you do not have a good relationship, because when I said I was trying to get to the Night Court he accused me of being a spy.”

Rhysand cursed and shared a glance with Feyre. “Did he hurt you?”

“I told him to get the splinters out,” she said plainly, “it hurt but I knew it would.”

“Perhaps the healer can get the rest out,” said Feyre, looking guilty. Meridian did not know why but she did not ask either, she simply nodded her head.


	2. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian worries that there is no role for her to fill at the Night Court. But if she cannot use the shadows and pearls, she will at least train her body to return to the shape of the warrior she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve received some great responses to this story so I decided to update ahead of schedule (I intend to update once week).

She had eaten only to throw up the food a few hours later when the healer arrived. The healer had warned her of the pain, but Meridian already knew of it. She had screamed and twisted in pain as Nuala and Cerridwen held her down. The healed had to open the wounds and dig inside for the sprinters. It was worse than Tamlin’s claws sliding across her arms. It was different than being tortured. But in a way it was liberating to be able to express her pain instead of sealing herself and keeping it all in. The healer had talked her into drinking a medicine to make her pass out because the medicine to numb the pain hadn’t taken effect and when she woke up hours later her wrist and ankles were sore from where Nuala and Carridwen had held her. Her back was on fire and it hurt with every turn of her body as she rose from the bed and padded out of the room. 

It was dark, she must have slept for the rest of the day. She kept walking anyway, and made it all the way past the dining room and the glass doors, out to the open air of a balcony. The air was cool against her bare skin and her hair caressed her face as the wind sirred the white strands. The satin of her night gown seemed to reflect the stars gracing the sky. 

Meridian wondered how she had looked through Mor and Rhys’s eyes. The High Lord had not even recognized her at first glance. She was a ghost of what she once was, her dark hair now white and her once brown eyes now silver. Her skin was pale, though the days she spent crossing through the Summer Court had given her skin some hint of color. The dark shadows that had always lingered around her were long gone and her body was still too thin—even if she had been well fed during the time she had spent in the Spring Court. There was no fighting muscle left in her body, she could not stand in a fight. She had nothing to offer, she was no longer a warrior and held no gifts or powers. She was utterly useless now. Rhysand had met her in the battlefield where she had fought and bled and her shadowsinger abilities had been useful. He had told her about a friend of his who served in his court, a shadowsinger just like her. He had offered her a place in the Night Court, a promise that the War would end. But before the war ended she had been caught and imprisoned. 

The King of Hybern had seen her when one of his generals decided it was time to get rid of her. They could not break her and they had gone tired of trying, believing she knew nothing because certainly after so much torture she would have spoken. But he had arrived for a meeting with the general, and his eyes had slid over her as she knelt before her executioner. He had approached, taking a closer look and then his lips had curled and he took her with him when he returned to the island. 

She closed her eyes, fist curling over the stone railing of the balcony. Meridian had spent five hundred years locked away in that cell. The first century was brutal. The king’s rage over the wall and the free mortals was brutal. He had broken her in many ways, not letting her heal more than he deemed enough before doing it all over again. The following centuries were more controlled. He played with her until he grew bored and then he would forget about her existence for ten or so years. He lost his interest completely after three hundred years because she was broken beyond repair and because he was tired of not getting reactions out of her. 

Meridian would send herself away to where she could not see and feel what was done to her and after so many years even her body stopped responding. There would be no screams or attempts to break free, she would lie there, her body still and her mind sealed. After a silent century, she had given up on waiting for the king’s order to end her life. It was what she had expected when he grew uninterested. But then she was taken out to the glaring sun and her meals were more than gruel and bread because apparently the king wanted her alive—perhaps he wanted her to get better so he could enjoy breaking her again. But after a while the outings stopped, the king had forgotten about her again. 

Then after a century of nothing but the guard’s harassment, the twins picked up their uncle’s toy. It was on and off with them, they were wicked, their hearts black holes. She had burned with her hatred and desire to snap their necks, and it had made her feel alive after centuries of feeling dead. At least they talked, they laughed and mocked her, telling her what would follow soon and how she would remain trapped while Hybern destroyed everything and everyone that dared oppose them. They had told her about how Amarantha had taken the power of all the High Lords and claimed herself Queen of Prythian. It was only the beginning, they had claimed, and a test to see how strong the High Lords were. And then Amarantha was killed and the twins stopped torturing her. 

Until they had been given a mission. They had visited a week before their departure and spent hours upon hours torturing her and opening her back with a broken ash wood arrow, making sure the splinters dug and stayed inside her flesh. It was so she wouldn’t get lonely, they had cooed. 

They were killed by Feyre, the king had told her when he asked the guards to drag her to him. He had smacked the smirk off her face and told Jurian to leave the room.  _ Jurian _ . The king had laughed at the horrified look on her face when she beheld the cauldron. He had told her then, how he had resurrected Jurian and made a deal with the mortal queens. He had told her about Feyre, who was Made by the seven High Lords after she broke the hold Amarantha had on their power. 

The twins had never explained how she had done it or what curse had been set on the High Lord of the Spring Court—only that she had used a spell book she stole from the king. The king did not explain either. He had told her about using Feyre’s mortal sisters to test the cauldron’s abilities before the mortal queens. They were Made by the cauldron, but one of them had stolen something from it. 

“Why are you telling me this?” She had asked.

“Because,” he sneered, “I asked the cauldron what I need to do to repair it…” he paused, giving her a long look, “and it showed me you.”

He kept her chained after that, in the same room as the cauldron, demanding she find what was wrong with it and how to repair it. She dreaded being in the same room as the cauldron, but it had allowed her to hear things. The king had his spell book back after Amarantha was defeated, he had used it to break the Night Court’s protection wards—twice. 

Meridian had nothing to lose, so as a last bow to Rysand and Mor, she had asked to see the spell book. The king had refused at first, until he became desperate to use the cauldron to break the wall. He had sat on his throne, watching her as they placed the book infront of her. She had flipped through it, a page, two, three, and then closed it and pressed her palm over it. The king’s eyes widened and he had screamed at the guards as the book turned into a blue pearl in her palm. The guards had yanked her, then pushed her down and pried her fist open but the pearl was gone. 

They tortured her for days, demanded the spell book, the pearl was hidden beneath her skin and there was no torture she had not endured. 

It had happened in the middle of the night. The king had dragged her out of her cell and taken her to the cauldron. “I see now,” he had laughed, “I see now.”

And he had pushed her in himself. Her body was too frail and beaten for her to fight after he submerged her in the cauldron. It had taken everything from her, her shadows and her blue pearls. When it was done with her, the cauldron tipped, spilling her drained body. The color of her hair and eyes had been drained along with her power and it was not until she had been tossed back in her cell that she noted the blue circle that marked her palm, a pearl that would never come out. 

Meridian stared at it now, the small blue circle marking her palm. She could not feel the marble there anymore, her powers were gone. She was nothing. She was useless. 

She felt a tug, not on her palm but on her chest. Another. Her body stiffened, her ears sharpening for any sound but there was none. She turned around slowly and she would’ve missed him if her heart did not long for the shadows. Azriel; the spymaster; the shadowsinger. 

He stepped away from the shadows, this steps silent and calculated as he stared at her, analyzing her carefully before speaking. “You should go back to your room, I will send Nuala and Cerridwen to change your bandages.”

Meridian tore her gaze away from him and stared out into the city. It was beautiful. It was a dream. But it was a dream that had not come to life for her yet. The city was there and Mor had promised a tour once she was better, but even as she stared at the beautiful city, there was no joy in her heart. She had long forgotten how to feel joy and happiness and content. 

“I’m fine,” she replied at last. 

She had gotten used to the injuries on her back. Still, she turned and walked towards Azriel, she made to walk past him but her eyes spotted the lingering shadows and she stopped. 

The shadowsinger did not move. He watched her, waited. 

“Can I?” 

Her fingers reached for the shadows and he understood what she was asking. Shadows wrapped around her fingers and her hand, past her wrist and around her arm. Meridian’s heart ached and her eyes burned. Her glazed, silver eyes met his and she pulled her hand away as if burned. 

“They no longer whisper to me,” she whispered and walked away. 

The next morning one of the twins changed her bandages and helped her dress into a simple dark blue dress. Elain and Armen were not present at the table. After a while of aimless conversations, Rhysand held her gaze. 

“How was your stay at the Spring Court?” He asked. Feyre—his mate and the High Lady of the Night Court was looking at her worriedly.

Meridian shrugged her shoulders. “There was no one there, not even the staff. He hunts for food every day and he can’t cook other than roasting meat, but he fed me and he gave me a bed. He did—when he found me and believed me a spy, he clawed my arms, not very deep, superficial cuts. But that was all. I am sure,” she said, moving her food around her plate, “that he did something awful, for everyone on his court to have deserted him and for him to have accepted it. I could see it, in his eyes, that he knows he deserves to live alone in that empty manor.”

Mor, who was sitting next to her, was checking her arms, but the cuts of his claws had long faded. “He needs to watch his damn temper. Idian, you should’ve clawed him right back.” 

Her lips twisted in a hint of a smile. “I can’t stand in a fight,” she shook her head, “but he really didn’t pick a fight after that. He thought I was a spy and that I would be long gone the following day since there were no wards. He was rather shocked when he found me right where he left me and my arms hadn’t healed.”

Feyre was gripping her fork tightly, Rysand placed a hand around her wrist and she softened under his touch. 

“If you need someone to carve up his arms, count me in.” Cassian offered before shoving his mouth with more food. 

From their reactions, Meridian was curious about what had happened between the two Courts. “It was nothing. If my body wasn’t so weak those cuts would’ve been gone the next morning. He did ask me,” she remembered, “after he helped with the ash wood, why I wanted to come to the Night Court, more than once. I told him that that had been my plan after the war, that you,” she looked at Rhysand, “had offered me a home and a job. He warned me that you found your mate and didn’t sound very happy about it. He told me that if I had been your lover during the war, I shouldn’t bother returning to the Night Court.”

Rhysand snorted. “What did you tell him?”

“That you weren’t my type,” she stated flatly. 

Cassian spat out his drink, spraying the table and the spread of food in front of him. Mor let out a crow’s laugh while Feyre pressed her lips trying to hold her laughter and Azriel’s lips twitched. Rhysand gave her an indignant look. “I am everyone’s type,” he claimed, then glanced at Feyre, “not that I care about others. But it is a fact.”

Their laughter made something stir in her chest, but it was not enough and too brief to feel joy. She forced her lips to twitch into a smirk anyways. 

After breakfast, only Feyre and Mor remained. Feyre told her story, about the wolf in the forest, about Tamlin and the curse and Amarantha. She told her about the trials Under the Mountain and Tamlin’s suffocating and controlling love. Then she told her about Rhysand and the Court of Dreams.

When Feyre had to leave to tend to High Lady duties, Mor filled her in with life after the War, the Treaty with the mortal queens, the wall, and Amarantha. How she had invited all the High Lords to a ball and drained most of their power. How Rhysand had protected Velaris and them by erasing any memory of it from anyone of the Court of Nightmares who could’ve given it away. 

She had promised to take her for a stroll in the city when her back was healed, but Meridian could see how much her friend loved the city from the way she glanced at it from the balcony and tried to point out her favorite spots. But even Mor had things to do as Rhysand’s third. Meridian stayed by herself glancing at the beautiful city stretched below the balcony, feeling the late spring air on her skin.

It seemed like everyone had a place in that city and all of Rhysand’s friends—no, his family—had a place in his court. Meridian could not think of a place for her. Rhysand had offered her a position in his court because of her talents and strength, but it was all gone now. She could not be a second spymaster or use her pearlwitholder abilities. She had once been a great informant in the continent. Her shadowsinger abilities allowed her to be undetected and her pearlwitholder abilities allowed her to hide important information or items that needed to go undetected. She could turn classified documents or items into pearls and hide them inside her own body to transport them. 

But she was no longer a shadowsinger or a pearlwitholder. She could not even stand in a fight. Not with her too thin arms and legs and five hundred years of not training. But she needed to get back in shape if she wanted to stay and find a place for herself. She needed to gain weight and train and build muscle. It was all she could do now, because her talents and abilities were gone—all except for the fortress of her mind, impermeable and capable of enduring torture without breaking and giving information away.

Meridian watched the sun slowly disappear over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. There was a figure flying her way, wings catching the last rays of sunlight. Azriel landed flawlessly a few feet away from her and tucked his wings tight behind his back. Meridian kept her eyes on the settling sun. 

“You are bleeding through the bandages,” the spymaster informed her. “Do you want me to call on Nuala or Cerridwen to help you change your bandages?”

“No,” she said, tearing her gaze away from the sky and turning to him. “I can change them on my own.”

He did not believe her, but he did not push her. The shadowsinger said nothing as she walked away. Meridian went straight to her room and removed the dress. Even through the dark blue material, she could see the dark sports where the blood had soaked through. She sighed and walked into the bathroom, letting ice cold water fill the bath as she removed the soaked bandages. 

….

She wore a smoke gray tunic shirt with metallic silver tread, tucked under black male pants that Cerridwen had adjusted at the sides so they wouldn’t slip. Cerridwen had been waiting for her when she got out of the bath. She had applied the ointment the healer had left for her and wrapped the bandages. Meridian did not want to wear and ruin another dress so she asked for pants and a simple shirt. Cerridwen had offered to go buy new clothes for her but Meridian refused and turned to the dressed, trying to find a simple one.

Cerridwen had left and returned with male clothes, saying it was a temporary solution to her wardrobe. No one commented on her clothes, except for Mor. “I definitely need to take you shopping.” 

“These are comfortable,” she shrugged. The shirt was loose but she had asked Cerridwen not to adjust it as it did not brush against her back like the dress had. 

Cassian opened his mouth to speak but let out a yelp instead. At his side, Azriel ate his food quietly. 

“I could lend you some of my clothes if you don’t want to go shopping,” said Elain at her side. 

“That’s not necessary,” Meridian smiled at her, grateful for the offer. “Mor is right, I need to buy some clothes for myself.” 

“If you go shopping with Mor be prepared to be out all day,” Cassian warned.

Mor gave him a look.

Meridian glanced at Cassian, remembering what she wanted to ask him. “Feyre said you trained her, could you train me?”

Cassian arched eyebrows, eyes traveling from her face to her slender neck, sharp shoulders and slim arms. “Maybe next week when you put on some weight, if you throw a punch right now, you might break your hand.”

“Careful,” said Rhysand, “Meridian was feared in the battlefield.” 

“No, he’s right,” said Meridian, putting more food on her plate. “In the shape I’m in, I can’t even defend myself.”

“You will get back in shape,” said Mor, “and then you can wipe the floor with Cassian.”

Cassian barked a laugh. 

“You want to bet on it?” Mor suggested, giving Cassian a wicked grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the male clothes Meridian wore are Azriel’s.
> 
> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!


	3. Blue Flames, Ignored Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During training with Cassian, Meridian manifests unexpected powers. A calming touch is all it takes from the person whose presence keeps pulling at something inside her.

Cassian took it upon himself to stack food on her plate every single meal for two weeks and started training with her on the third week. They had been training for six days now, every morning at seven. Cassian had duties before that so by the time he arrived she had to be done with her warmups. Feyre would sometimes join them, but she was prioritizing her flying practice with Azriel or Rhysand. Mor wouldn’t show up until breakfast, by that time Meridian would already be showered and dressed, with Cassian piling food on her plate. 

But there was an audience today. Mor was sitting with a glass of wine in hand, watching them with Armen, who was in a delighted mood because Prince Varian was coming today. Cassian and Meridian had been at it for an hour and half when Rhysand Azriel arrived.

“Where’s Feyre?” Mor drawled from where she lounged lazily.

“Elain wants to visit Nesta,” said Rhysand. 

The older sister. Meridian had not met her yet, but Mor had told her she was not as approachable as Elain or Feyre and that after the war she had distanced herself even more. It was a touchy subject. 

Cassian pushed past her defense and Meridian’s vision went white before she felt the pain of the punch that connected to her nose.

“Shit.” He cursed.

Meridian covered her nose with her arm as warm blood dropped down the floor. 

“Stupid Illyrian!” Mor called.

“I’m fine,” Meridian grunted.

Cassian pressed something wet against her face, to wipe the blood. The smell of sweat and earthy musk invaded her nostrils. Meridian pushed the Illyrian away and threw the sweaty and now bloody shirt at him. “It stinks!” 

Mor and Armen let out a pair of crow’s caw laughs. Meridian wiped her nose with her own shirt, but it had already stopped bleeding. “It’s the scent of a male,” Cassian said proudly. 

Meridian made a face of disgust and Rhysand laughed. “You just wanted to take your shirt off.”

Cassian trailed his hand down his muscled abdomen. “If we have an audience we might as well put on a show,” he smirked.

Mor rolled her eyes and Armen asked Rhysand something about the meeting he had with Prince Varian—it sounded like she was warning him not to keep him for long.

“Now, Meridian,” Cassian called for her attention. “I know seeing me without a shirt might be distracting,” he smirked, “but let’s keep going.”

Meridian dragged her gaze down his Illyrian muscles, the tanned skin slick with sweat. She returned her gaze to his hazel eyes and let out a dissatisfied sigh. “Not really.”

Cassian laughed and grabbed her arms, putting them back in a defensive position. “You were actually holding up good, you have a good defense you just need to put on more weight. You were light as a feather that night I found you. You have made some progress but you need to keep on eating more. Let’s switch to offense before we finish up.”

Meridian changed her stand to offense as Cassian took the defensive stand. But his words started echoing in her head. 

_ You were light as a feather that night I found you. _

She had thanked him once, but she had never thought back to that night when he had found her in the mountain border of the Night Court. But now, as she tried punching through his defense she remembered. She remembered what she had said, what she had thought was about to happen to her, and how she had not moved a muscle to defend herself. 

_ “If you wish to kill me,” she rasped, “do it while the stars are still out.” _

_ “I don’t mean to kill you,” the male snorted.  _

_ She let go of their leather clothes. “Then if you’re going to use me, beat me unconscious first.”  _

_ The male choked, his chest going rigid against her. “I’m sorry.” _

His apology meant that he knew what she had thought he would do. How her request to be unconscious meant that she had been through it before. 

_ If you’re going to use me... _

Meridian’s breath started coming out in pants, sweat trickling down her spine. “Did you tell them?” She asked, her voice a pant of breath.

Cassian did not lower his defense as she continued to deliver punch after punch. His brows furrowed. “Tell them what?”

Her breath was ragged as she whispered, “when you found me—I thought you were going to—did you tell them?”

Cassian’s face paled and Meridian landed a punch. As her gloved fist collided with his chest something exploded inside her and the impact sent the Illyrian flying back. 

The Illyrian let out a loud groan as he landed, their audience stared in shock and Meridian was the first to make it to him. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Shit,” Cassian interrupted her with wide eyes, his eyes on her right hand. “You’re on fire!”

Her own gray eyes widened as she looked down at her gloved hand. The blue flames were burning through the glove. She tried to feel for the burn but she felt nothing but warmth as the fire burned blue.

Rhysand and Azriel were there in an instant, Mor only a step behind. Meridian waved her hand, trying to put out the flames but they continued burning. “What—it doesn’t go out—“ she panicked, hitting her palm on the floor.

Cassian tried to grab her but she pushed herself away, afraid of burning him. The fire started spreading up her arm, up her skin. It did not hurt but she couldn’t not breathe from the rising panic. She tore the glove away from her hand but it was her hand that was burning brighter. The blue flames were coming from her own palm. 

“Meridian,” Rhysand’s voice was calm as he tried to reach for her, but she scrambled away. 

She felt a tug at her chest and a soothing hand pressed against her back while another trailed down her arm. The flames stopped spreading, slowly retreating to her palm, burning bright on the blue pearl shaped circle on her palm before going completely out. 

Azriel traced the small blue circle on her palm and looked up at her. “What is it?

Armen stood behind Azriel with a satisfied smirk. She looked at Rhysand and said, “I told you there was power lurking inside her.”

“Were you always able to do that?” Rhysand asked softly, ignoring Armen. “I don’t remember seeing those flames in battle.”

Azriel was silently inspecting her palm while Mor helped Cassian up from the floor. The shadowsinger traced his scarred finger over the blue pearl again and the tug on her chest was more insistent. Their eyes met and Meridian pulled away and got up so fast she knocked her head against Cassian’s chin. Mor sputtered a laugh, telling Cassian that he deserved it but Meridian could tell she was trying to defuse the tension, which spoke of how panicked her expression was. It was the distraction she needed.

“I need a shower,” Meridian blurted and stalked away to her room. No one dared stop her. 

She closed the door of her room and pressed her back against it, heart beating widely. She shouldn’t have come to the Night Court.

A knock on the door startled her, but she remained firmly pressed against it. She was expecting Mor, but it was Cassian who spoke. “Meridian.”

“I’m indecent,” she lied, “I’m going to take a bath.”

“Liar.”

Cassian pushed the door open, but Meridian grounded her feet and slammed her weight against the door. The Illyrian pushed against her, her feet moved an inch and it was all he needed to knock her off balance and slip inside her room. 

“I need to take a bath,” she stated, avoiding his gaze as she walked to the bathroom and set the cold water to fill the bath, squeezing in some soap to keep herself busy.

“Meridian,” Cassian said from the doorway. “I—I didn’t tell them. All they know is that I found you unconscious and brought you here.”

Meridian clenched her jaw. 

“If you want to—if you ever need to talk about it—“

“There is nothing to talk about,” she cut in sharply. 

“Hurry up to breakfast,” he said, trying to make his voice light.

“I’m not hungry—“

“I’ll drag your ass there if I have to,” he called as he walked towards the door, “you still have to put on weight.”

“Fine,” she snapped, “lock the door on your way out.”  
  


Thirty minutes later Meridian made it to the table. Everyone was already eating and Cassian started piling her plate the moment she saw her walk in. He set the plate in the seat between himself and Mor and across from Armen. 

Meridian slipped into the chair silently and started eating, aware of the glances they kept throwing her way. They must have sensed her mood or seen the tension of her shoulders because they did not ask anything. 

“I put my money on you,” Mor informed her, voice light, “I said you would knock Cassian off his feet before the end of your first week of training.”

Cassian grumbled.

“I am glad I was here to witness it,” Armen drawled, “too bad you got that flame under control before you did any damage.”

Rhysand gave her a sharp look, Armen rolled her eyes. 

Mor and Cassian gave Meridian a sideways glance and Rhysand’s gaze also slipped towards her. It was Azriel, who refused to look her way. The shadowsinger was purposely avoiding glancing in her general direction. Meridian’s irritation was growing by the second. They all wanted an explanation—perhaps it was the only reason why Azriel had not left—but no one dared ask. Armen was the only one who looked ready to question her if the others didn’t.

Meridian set down her fork. “That has never happened before,” she stated. It was best to get it over with now than drag it down until Armen had enough. “I am not sure how exactly that was possible, but I suppose I have an idea where it came from.” No one said a single word, they only stared, waiting for her to continue—except for Azriel who was still not looking at her. “When I was in Hybern, the king said he asked the cauldron how to fix it and the cauldron showed him me. He thought I was the one that could figure out how to fix it. So he chained me to that room every day with only him and the cauldron in the room. While I was there I heard bits and pieces of his schemes. I heard that he had used his spell book to bring down the protective wards of Velaris—a city in the Night Court that had been kept a secret for centuries. I knew that the spell book was powerful and that he would certainly use it again in the war. I had nothing to lose, so I told him that I had a dream in which I held the spell book in my hands while I repaired the cauldron. At first, he refused to let me near it, but he grew desperate to bring down the wall so he took the risk. He handed me the spell book while he and other guards watched me. He had stopped mixing faebane in my food in case I needed my power to fix the cauldron. The chains dulled my power, but I had enough to conceal the book into a pearl and hide it inside the skin of my palm as I did many times with vital documents and information during my time as an informant. They tortured me for a week, trying to force me to give it up, but I never did. And then, one night the king dragged me to the cauldron and tossed me in. The cauldron took the shadows and my pearlwitholder abilities and where the blue pearl had once been I only had a blue circle over my skin.”

She traced the small blue circle that had burned so brightly an hour before.

“My body was very weak after that and I was thrown back in the cell,” she closed her hand, “for weeks, I was merely conscious for an hour or two a day. I am not even sure how much time passed, everything was so quiet and the king never came back. Even the guards stopped checking on me. I thought I would starve to death, but then one of the servants started bringing me food, twice a day, with no faebane and I realized the spells around my cell were gone. I waited a week, I needed to at least be able to stand up on my own and then I escaped. I stole a map, a blade and packed some food and hid in the Island for weeks until I could winnow. I never manifested any power during that time. And you know the rest.”

Meridian pushed her chair back and went back to her room.  
  


She ate lunch alone then shut herself up in her room, reading about the years that followed the War and the Treaty. The House of Wind was completely silent and if she closed her eyes the bed and furniture vanished and she was sitting in her cell again, her clothes nothing but rags and the bed a lumpy only mattress that smelled of sweat and blood. 

Mor had arrived an hour before dinner to demand she dress up and head out with her to the town house, where everyone was having dinner—except Armen who was busy with Prince Varian. Meridian really didn’t have a choice, Mor was set on taking her with her to dinner and she didn’t doubt she would dress her up herself if she didn’t. She had worn a simple gray dress with embroidery at the top because when she had first come out wearing the same pants and a different shit Mor had given her a look.

Feyre welcomed her into the town house with a smile and Mor let out an indignant retort when she realized they had already opened the wine without her. Meridian slipped away once she forced a smile as greeting and found Elain, Nuala and Cerridwen in the kitchen, carrying the food to the table. She offered her help and grabbed the plates before they could protest, she did not want to sit with a forced smile on her face while they waited for dinner. 

Elain called them to the table and Cassian was the first to sit. Everyone else followed and Meridian cursed I internally when the only seat left was between Elain and Azriel. She sat down, her shoulders and back stiff and let Mor pour her a glass of wine. 

“You never said what Prince Varian wanted,” Mor eyed Rhysand as they began to eat. 

Rhysand tensed and shared a glance with his mate. He was quiet for a moment and everyone in the table knew they were communicating through their bond. Meridian finished her wine before even touching her food. Cassian arched his eyebrows at her and piled another slice of meat on her plate. She glared at him in reproach and he smirked. 

Azriel shifted in his seat and took a sip of his wine, still ignoring her presence. 

“It was about the Spring Court,” Rhysand finally replied. “More about Tamlin. He won’t even meet the guards the Summer Court sent to secure the borders and when they have attempted to report to him they find him passed out drunk.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “It is what he deserves.”

“It might be,” said Feyre grimly, “but we still need him to hold his Court and his borders. The Summer Court setting up a patrol was supposed to be a temporary solution.”

“Send Armen to pay a visit,” Mor shrugged.

Rhysand snorted. “We need him alive.” 

“I can go,” Cassian offered with a wicked grin.

“We need him alive and cooperating,” Rhysand repeated. “Tamlin isn’t reacting badly to the Summer Court guard but if I send one of you he’ll not take it well.”

“Send me,” Meridian suggested.

Everyone turned to her except for Azriel, whose back went rigid and his hand paused at his glass of wine, and Elain, who seemed to be ignoring the conversation 

Cassian snorted. “Are you trying to quit our training sessions?”

Meridian ignored him and turned to Rhysand. “You know I can handle it and you know how well I can read people.” 

Rhysand knew that very well. She had been an informant during the War when she was not fighting in the battlefield. She had impenetrable barriers in her mind, which not even Rhysand had been able to get past. It was what had made them friends. He was fascinated by her strong will and her exceptional training against daemati. She was no daemati herself, but she knew how to read people and play her cards according to their needs. 

The High Lord did not reach her, she could see the invisible reach of his mind slowly making its way to her. He was trying to see if her mind was still intact after centuries of tortures. She had been waiting for that, surprised he hadn’t tried before.

Meridian simply poured herself more wine and brought it to her lips as she whispered. “If I remember correctly, you tried for days to get into my mind when we met,” she said, “it gave you a headache.”

Rhysand’s lips curled into a grin. “That it did.”

Feyre gave Rhysand a questioning look and he must have replied through the bond if her surprised look was anything to go by. 

“Are you being a rude bastard?” Mor arched his eyebrows at his cousin.

“Fine,” Rhysand sighed. “You leave next week. We’ll discuss more about it tomorrow after your training with Cassian.” He paused, thinking, and then added, “you will only go if you can knock Cassian off his feet again by the end of practice tomorrow.”

“That can be arranged,” she said flatly. 

Cassian snorted. “We will see about that.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn’t clear enough, what Meridian felt when Azriel touched her was the confirmation of the mate bond, but neither of them acknowledge it.
> 
> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!


	4. Heartbroken High Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian returns to the Spring Court to shape Tamlin back into a High Lord capable of protecting his borders.

Meridian managed to knock Cassian down on her own by outsmarting him during practice, the blue flames and the sudden surge of strength did not make an appearance. Cassian was grumpy after training and took incredible satisfaction in piling her plate during breakfast. She ate every single thing on her plate and threatened to stab her fork through his hand when he tried to pile up more. She did not see Azriel for the next few days. 

Mor took her shopping for gear after Rhysand said it was best if she left the Illyrian leathers behind because the mere sight of them would likely piss off Tamlin. The leather gear she bought was thick and tight like a second skin, with many straps for weapons and extra padding on the shoulders, elbows and knees. She would probably end up wearing the pants only with a simple shirt so she wouldn’t die from the heat. 

Cassian had switched the hand-to-hand training to weapon fighting the last few days before she left. Then he had offered her several weapons to choose from. She had taken two short sword blades and two small daggers that were easy to conceal. The Illyrian had insisted she take more, but she reminded him she was going to try to get Tamlin to do his job as High Lord, not on a mission to assassinate him. 

Feyre had told her about her revenge on Tamlin. She had not told her about it before. But she thought she ought to know if she was going to be staying at the Spring Court. It was necessary information, as it told her more about Tamlin and how his court had fallen apart. 

She had left from the town house, Rhysand, Feyre, Mor and Cassian were there. Azriel did not show up.

Meridian winnowed outside the manor, thought she could’ve gone right inside since there were no wards. She walked up the steps and l knocked, once, twice, trice. No one responded. The door was not even locked. She let herself inside, straining her ears for any sound. The clicking of a bottle took her to a room with a half broken door. Tamlin was inside, leaning against a wall surrounded by torn canvases and long spilled paint. The floor was stained with dried paint and there were broken art supplies everywhere. 

“Tamlin,” Meridian called his name firmly. 

He took another gulp of amber liquid from the bottle he was holding. The High Lord was in worse condition than when she had stayed. His hair was longer and he was spotting a weeks old beard, his nails were caked with dirt and his clothes were filthy. 

“Tamlin,” she called him again.

The broken male glanced at her briefly before going back to the bottle. “Who are you?”

“It’s Meridian,” she said, “you helped me before.”

Tamlin looked at her again, his head tilted to the side. “Ah, I remember you. Weren’t you on your merry way to the Night Court?” He slurred. 

“I did get there,” she said, “but I heard about the tension in the borders and I came here to stay for a while, if you allow me.”

“Why?” He snarled. “ _ He _ sent you, didn’t he?”

“No,” she said, not exactly lying. “I offered to come.”

“Why?” He growled, sitting up.

“To make sure the borders hold.”

“Get out,” he growled. 

“No.”

“Get out!” He raised the bottle in warning. 

Meridian crossed her arms and planted her feet. “If you throw that bottle at me I will catch it and break it over your thick skull.”

The High Lord growled and stumbled to his feet. He lunged himself at her but slipped over a broken paintbrush. Meridian managed to catch his weight and held him against her own body. Tamlin grabbed her arms tightly, his grip would certainly leave bruises, but she did not push him off. She did not have to because his hand fell against his side as he slumped against her and snored. 

…

The next day Meridian woke up at dawn, she met up with the Summer Court guard in charge, who had already been informed of her presence. He gave her copies of the patrol shifts and positions and showed her their makeshift base. 

After that meeting, Meridian visited the village. It was half populated, with houses and stores half built, projects abandoned midway. Many people had left when they lost faith in their High Lord, leaving behind signs of the broken promises of rebuilding the town. 

It took her more than she expected to find three willing servants to give their word that they would show up at the manor the following day and that was because she promised a whole week’s pay for only four days of work. She returned to the manor with supplies, grumbling to herself as she made breakfast for two. She was never a fan of cooking and she was not a master at it, but she could get by. At least she knew what spices were, unlike Tamlin. She made to take breakfast to the table, only to find that it was now completely broken. She pursed her lips and cleared the small table in the kitchen before going upstairs to where Tamlin was still sleeping.

Meridian let herself inside and knocked loudly on the open door. Tamlin did not even shift in the bed. She was a babysitter, that was what she was. Pursing her lips, she walked towards the bed, pausing a step away and she noted he had taken off his shirt. She hoped he was wearing something on the bottom half of his body and shook him awake. 

Tamlin turned on his back and gripped her arm tightly, forcing her down at the edge of the bed as he blinked awake. “Why are you still here?” his voice was rough with sleep and the hangover he was nursing. 

He shifted again, wincing and pressing his other hand against his temple. Meridian traced her eyes over him without his notice. He was entirely nude.

“I told you I would stay,” she said plainly. “It’s already ten in the morning, get up.”

“Get out,” he groaned, pressing his temple. 

“I made breakfast,” she ignored his rudeness, “it’s going to get cold. And there’s a lot to discuss so get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

She yanked her arm away from his grip but he held onto her shirt. 

“I don’t need your help,” he gritted out, “and I don’t need anyone trying to order me around.”

“I am being rather kind,” she held his gaze. “So get up, because if I have to return to get you I will drag you down as you are.”

She trailed her eyes over his naked body and saw the High Lord’s skin flush as he realized he was nude. Meridian knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she was in a bad mood after the dreams of shadows that plagued her mind all night. She brushed her knee against Tamlin’s rather impressive semi-hardness before untangling herself from him and walking out the room. 

Tamlin had seen plenty of her when he had dug out the ash wood from her back. He knew how scarred her body was. Even after the healer, the wounds had healed into nasty scars. She had seen the disgust on Tamlin’s face when he had seen her body in the bathtub as he dug his claws into her skin. 

She just needed a reason to piss him off enough for him to come down and eat and talk.

It worked. Twenty minutes later, the High Lord of the Spring Court sat across her in the small square table. He winced as he did and Meridian pointed at the juice. “I mixed some pain relief powder in there, drink it.”

He either trusted her or did not care if she was trying to poison him because he drank it without protest. Meridian started on her own meal, comparing her bad cooking to Nuala’s and Cerridwen’s perfect meals. Tamlin did not complain as he ate, probably because his cooking was nothing to be proud of either—if it could even be called cooking. 

“I hired servants,” she informed him, “three of them. A gardener and two cleaning and cooking maids. They agreed to come for four days with a whole week’s pay. They will come for four days and decide if they keep coming. You’re paying them in advance, by the way.”

“You’re giving them a trial week?” He asked.

“No,” she snorted, “you are the one on trial. Meaning that if you’re a snarling asshole they will not come back.” 

Tamlin gripped his fork so tightly he bent it. “They do not respect me.”

“Then win their respect back,” she shrugged. “That is how life works, you know. If you mess up, it is you who must put the effort into gaining people’s trust and respect back.”

Tamlin stayed silent. 

“Anyways,” she brushed past the topic, “I hope your hangover is gone because I need a partner to train with.”

Tamlin arched his brows. “You are asking me?”

“Who else?” She finished her meal. “The Summer Court guards are busy—oh, before I forget, the guard in charge is having lunch with us tomorrow. The maids are going to be here and I didn’t want to subject him to my bad cooking, so I invited him over tomorrow.” 

The High Lord did not agree nor complain.

  
  


It happened three weeks and a half later, he exploded. She had gone to his room when he did not come down on his own and had found him nursing a bottle of amber liquid, much like the day she arrived. 

“Are you serious,” she looked at him incredulously.

Tamlin had snarled at her in response. “Go tell  _ her _ that her revenge worked too well. That I am a lost cause as a High Lord. Go on, go tell your High Lord and High Lady that I am a mess.”

“You need to let that go,” she snapped. “Stop being pathetic and get up and take a shower. I will see you down stairs.”

Tamlin managed to get up to his feet, bottle still in hand. “I told you to go. Get out of my court. Go back to your High Lord.”

He threw the bottle at her but Meridian winnowed right behind him and winnowed them out of the manor. Fortunately, the maids were off. They had agreed to continue to work for the High Lord four times a week, but if they had been there to witness his outburst they would have quit on the sport. 

They were a tangle of limbs on the dirt and dead grass, throwing punches and digging elbows and knees until Meridian managed to kick him hard enough to keep him down while she stood. 

“You need to drop the heartbroken High Lord act and get over Feyre,” she snarled, “Mother knows she got over you a long time again and she’s happy with her mate.”

Tamlin’s deep growl tore through the wind and he tried to tackle her but she winnowed three feet to the side. 

“Be a male and let her be happy,” she snapped, “be a High Lord and take care of your own damn land and people!”

He was still half drunk, but through his fury he managed to winnow right in front of her, claws out and tearing through the thick leather gear she had worn that day. She and Tamlin were supposed to join the guard in charge in a horse ride all around the borders. Vane, the guard, had offered to bring breakfast before they were due to leave. 

Tamlin’s claws ripped through the thick leather like she had once seen him skin a dead rabbit when she first arrived at Prythian. She winced as the warm blood soaked through her gear, her mind flashed to the cells in Hybern as Dagdan and Brannagh smiled at her wickedly, but it was only a second. Her fist flared blue and she punched Tamlin so hard she heard his shoulder crack. She scrambled to her feet as he gripped his shoulder in pain and as she stood, a blue shield formed around her. 

She did not need to be a daemati to know what flashed in Tamlin’s mind, Feyre had told her about the wind shield she had once made to protect herself from him. The High Lord took a step closer, his anger disappearing. His eyes trailed down the blood that was dripping from her sides down her torn leather gear and his face twisted as he shifted into a beast and took off running.

“Meridian!” Vane gasped as he ran towards her, dropping what was probably their breakfast on the ground. 

Meridian willed the blue shield gone and it disappeared without the need of a second try. Whatever power lurked under her skin, it had not manifested again since the day she punched Cassian and her arm caught on fire. Vane’s face was grim as he inspected her wound.

“It’s nothing,” she said. 

Vane did not comment on it but walked with her back to the manor. He left her in her room, saying he would go find breakfast while she tended her wounds.

There were three claw marks, all bleeding but one deeper than the others. She cleaned up the blood in the bath and by the time she slipped out the tub the shallow wounds were almost entirely healed. She placed a small bandage on the deep one, knowing that it would heal in two or three hours if she didn’t use any magic. There was also a bruise on her jaw, she didn’t even remember the punch there. 

Tamlin did not return until midnight. Meridian was in bed, wide awake and listening to the night. She heard him on the stairs and he stopped at her door. He stayed there for five minutes until she got up and opened the door. 

The High Lord swallowed thickly as he took her in. She crossed her arms to hide her breast and stared at him expectantly. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I messed up again. I’m sorry. You’re right, I need to take care of my land, my people.”

Meridian silently stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I will win their trust and respect back,” he said, “I will be a High Lord. I will stop the drinking and I will see how I can help resume the village’s rebuilding plans.”

“Good,” she said firmly.

Tamlin stepped closer and Meridian felt something tug at her chest. She forced herself not to react. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “I already healed.”

The High Lord nodded, stepping back. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“I will be down at six,” she said before shutting the door.

She waited until she heard Tamlin go into his own bedroom and shut his door to glance around her room, her attention instantly drawn to the bathroom where shadows gathered. Her feet were soundless and she walked towards the bathroom, the door silently closed behind her and Azriel stood there, his face cold and tight. 

“What are you doing here?” She hissed.

“Prince Varian reported what happened after the head guard returned from his shift. Rhysand was waiting for you to send word but you did not,” Azriel’s voice was controlled but cold. “Why didn’t you?”

Meridian let out a huff. “I am supposed to go back in three days,” she said, “I would’ve reported then. I did write a full report for Rhysand if you want to take it.”

“He could’ve been hurt you badly,” Azriel’s voice was tight.

Meridian clenched her hands, her gray eyes icy cold as she stared at him and hissed, “what do you care? Rhysand should know I can handle myself.”

Shadows wrapped around Azriel tightly, swallowing the light coming out from the window. “According to the guard’s report you were hurt.”

Meridian rolled her eyes, her irritation growing by the second. Azriel had no right acting concerned now after ignoring her presence the moment he realized what they were to each other. “It was a fight,” she drawled, trying to relax, “he got a few good claws and I got a hell of a good punch.”

The shadowsinger inspected her body with those hazel eyes of him that could see in the dark. Meridian could still remember being able to blend into shadows and see her surroundings perfectly while others stumbled in the dark. She could still see well in the dark but she could not see the things only shadowsingers could. 

Meridian grabbed his hand and he flinched away but she did not let go. She stepped closer to him and pressed his cold palm under her shirt. 

Meridian shivered at the contrast of his cold hand over her warm skin, his hand right above her hip where Tamlin’s claws had cut the skin, a cut which was now healed and left nothing behind. 

I healed,” she said, her voice tight. “Now go, he still hasn’t set up wards but he has a sense of smell.”

Azriel yanked his hand away and blended into the shadows. 

Meridian pressed herself against the wall wondering if she had been too harsh or too foolish or too unfair. She had not addressed what they were either. But her mind supplied the defense that she had been recuperating from five hundred years of imprisonment and that even if she had not addressed it, she had not avoided him like he had. Azriel had avoided her so he had no reason to barge into her room as if he was concerned. Perhaps she was being foolish. Rhysand must have sent him to check on her and she had been stupid to think he had come on his on accord. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> How I imagine Meridian writing her report.
> 
> Date: 
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> Today Tamlin and I got into a cat fight. 
> 
> That’s all.
> 
> Lmao 😂 That’s what she wanted to write but she likes being proficient at her job so she wrote a detailed report.


	5. A Serious Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian returns to the Night Court, but before seeing everyone else, she needs to have a talk with Feyre.

Three days later, Tamlin and Vane ate breakfast while discussing guard posts while Meridian reassured the staff that she would be back in a few days. The manor was clean, it had taken two weeks to clean the floors and the walls and throw out all the broken furniture that couldn’t be fixed. Tamlin had fixed the dining table and chairs, but the broken glass vases and frames had gone to the trash. There was still much to do, but it was safe to walk the floors without slicing a foot with a shred of glass. 

“I have a friend to see,” she said, “that’s all. But I will be back in about three days. Keep working your normal schedule and remember to tell others about the jobs open,” added.

They needed another gardener, she felt bad for Herrin, who did not have enough hands to bring back to life the entire garden and yellow grass. Most importantly, they needed males willing to be trained and join the patrol shifts—as Tamlin’s new guards. No High Fae had dared return to the manor yet, there was still no word from his sentinels so anyone who was willing to train was welcomed. Not one had dared yet.

“I will ask around the village,” said Nita, her tone was not very convincing.

"My friend is considering the launderer job," Gretel commented. If she had been taller, she would have passed a High Fae, but she was only half, she had once told her, not revealing the other half of her roots. "Maybe when Meridian comes back."

"That would be great."

Meridian had to start washing her clothes when she realized she had run out of clean pants two weeks ago and she had no idea how Tamlin got by. She did not want to ask. He did not smell bad, so perhaps he was using magic. It wouldn’t help to find out because she didn’t always have the time to wash her clothes, she was wearing the last clean set of clothes she had.

She joined Vane and Tamlin on the table, starting on her breakfast silently. Tamlin had shaved his nasty beard the morning before Gretel and Nita arrived that first week, but he had left the hair long and unkept until last night when she had found him looking for sharp scissors to cut his hair. He had found a pair and sharpened the baldes. Meridian had silently walked behind him and asked for the scissors. 

She could not deny that the thought of pressing the scissors against his neck crossed her mind briefly as she remembered what he had done to Feyre. But Meridian knew how to separate her feelings and lock them away when she was working. It was a vital skill she learned when she worked in her homeland. 

Meridian had pushed the thought away as quickly as it came and brushed Tamlin's wet hair before cutting the long strands to his shoulders. 

He looked handsome, his muscles had filled out and his cheekbones did not look hollowed out as they had when Meridian had found him in Feyre’s old painting room four weeks ago. His appearance meant she was doing her job well, but she felt conflicted because what if she was doing her job  _ too _ well. 

Vane said his farewells and returned to his post and Tamlin walked Meridian out the front door. “Are you going to report everything to  _ him _ ?”

Meridian held up her hand. “Don’t start. I want to see my friends and I hope to come back in three days to see everything running smoothly as it is or better if you can do that. I don’t take notes on your every move, if I were to tell them anything it would be in the event that another court tried getting through your borders to reach the human lands because that concerns everybody, but the Summer Court guards would inform their High Lord and I am sure every High Lord would be informed too.”

Tamlin pursed his lips and scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose there isn’t much to tell other than how pathetic I am.”

Meridian let out a sigh. She did not want to have an argument just before her departure and it would be chaotic if Nita and Gretel were to witness it; she did not want to come back to find them gone.

The High Lord glanced at the clothes she was wearing and looked at her in wonder. “They fit.”

He had gifted her a new leather gear for the one he had ripped. The High Lord had sent Gretel to the village the moment she arrived the previous day and asked her to find new leathers for her. 

“Gretel has a good eye,” she said. 

He nodded.

“I will definitely be here before the Summer Solstice,” she reminded him, “but remember to be a good host and offer your help to the Summer Court guards. Gretel and Nita already have a menu and they have the money they need to purchase everything, but be nice and approachable in case they need more.”

“I do know how to run a court,” Tamlin grumbled.

“You barely talk to them,” she crossed her arms, “win them over with a dazzling smile, they might convince others to come work for you.”

“I’ll try,” he said, but Meridian doubted he remembered how to smile and could already see how painfully tense Nita and Gretel would be around the dull, green eyed High Lord. 

“See you in three days,” she said at last before winnowing to the Night Court. 

  
  


Meridian was supposed to winnow outside the House of Wind and wait for Rhysand or Cassian to fly her in, but she ended up winnowing to the town house. She expected one of the twins to open the door but it was Feyre, who seemed ready to go out.

“Meridian,” she gasped, “I was just heading to the House of Wind. Rhysand is already there.”

She swallowed the knot on her throat. “Shall we walk? I want to talk to you first.”

“Sure,” she glanced over at her with a look that seemed concerned, “I heard that Tamlin and you got in a fight the other day.”

“It was nothing,” she waved it off, “I was waiting for it, he held up longer than I thought he would.”

“Prince Varian said his guard mentioned you got hurt,” Feyre tensed, “there was blood.”

Meridian sighed. “It was nothing. I dislocated his shoulder, you know. I am not useless in a fight, I just needed practice after centuries of sitting on my ass.”

“I know that, Rhysand told me about you and the war,” she said. “But if you don’t want to go back to the Summer Court, there are plenty of other jobs you can take on.”

“Tamlin and I are making progress,” she said, “it’s what I wanted to talk to you about, sort off.”

Feyre smiled at a child that recognized the High Lady as they passed—perhaps it was one of the children she was teaching art to. She turned back to her, the smile strained now. “What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I have a job,” she started, “to get Tamlin to be a High Lord. To get him to enforce his borders and stand between the Autumn Court or any court or fae who tries to pass his lands to get to the mortals. But to do so, I have to put some of his broken pieces back together so that his people can trust and respect him again, enough to work in his court and defend the borders. But I worry that I am lessening his punishment by helping him get back to his feet.”

Feyre sighed and glanced at the Sidra. “You are doing your job,” she said, “we need to have a connection to the Spring Court to make sure the humans beyond his border are safe. We need him, even if we don’t like it, we need him to negotiate a new Treaty. We need him to get his people back in case post war sentiments rise or fae lords from the continent decide to take a trip to Prythian to access human lands.” She paused and shook her head. “I do not wish him ill, but I still do not want to see him. I broke his court in pieces, perhaps more than I intended. I thought the sentinels would remain to guard the lands, not under him, but for the sake of the people. I did not intend for the entire Summer Court to fall apart.” 

Meridian nodded. “The cauldron took my powers, but not my skills. There is the fortress protecting my mind, my fighting that only needed practice and—as Cassian insisted, gaining weight—“ she laughed at that, “my skill at reading people and knowing what they need to get them to do what I want.”

She swallowed at the last. “Yes, Rhysand told me that you were an informant and negotiator. You got generals and Lords to put the money and the armies where they needed to be.” 

Meridian could remember those days so clearly, yet something they seemed lifespans ago—as they were. She unbuckled the top of her leather gear, feeling the heat start to get to her. “There was one time when it didn’t work,” she said, “against my Lord, in the continent. He refused to fight for humans.” She shook her head and added, “he did not mistreat humans himself, but he remained neutral when the war broke out. He did not want to fight for humans in case they lost and he was targeted for uniting with them.”

“So you left and fought for them—for the humans,” Feyre smiled. “I see now why Rhysand was so content with your return. He said you fought a war no one asked you to fight and you gave every bit of yourself in every battle. That you filled every gap and caught on traps that could’ve been deadly and you outsmarted your enemies plenty of times. He said you were a bridge between him and Mor when they did not see each other for several battles worth. He told me—“ her voice cracked slightly, “that there were times when he would find Illyrian bodies in battle fields he passed and he would check every single one to make sure it was not Cassian or Azriel and that you—you had never met them, but you helped him check the bodies too.”

It was a shame that Meridian was now a mare ghost of what she had once been. “Rhys is only trying to butter me up so I’ll tell him the secret of my fortress,” she tapped her temple.

Feyre laughed. “I would be lying if I said he didn’t mention that more than twice.” The High Lady noted the glistening sweat on her skin and said, “should we winnow now? If you don’t arrive soon, they’ll fly to the Spring Court to make sure you and Tamlin aren’t having a fist fight.”

Meridian snorted. “Cassian just wants to make sure I’m back to try wiping the floor with me at training and Azriel rarely talks to me, Rhysand and Mor know better than to worry and Armen would only check on me to make sure I at least burn off one of Tamlin’s limbs.”

The High Lady chuckled briefly but then frowned. “Azriel was worried,” she said, as if she herself was surprised. “When Prince Varian informed Rhysand about the fight, Rhysand said you would send word if you needed help or you would winnow back if it was bad. Mor said you had probably kicked his ass right back and Cassian is always ready for a fight so he was ready for you to ask for help so he could fly right off. But when you didn’t, Rhysand said everything must have worked out fine—it was Azriel who insisted on checking you were alright.”

Meridian swallowed thickly, but kept her expression neutral. “Yes, I was surprised when he showed up. I figured he went because he would be in and out undetected.”

“Azriel is quiet but very observant,” said Feyre, “he might not say much but he cares.”

“Very observant when it comes to Mor,” she kept her voice flat.

Feyre choked on her own spit, eyes wide as she cleared her throat. “Ah, you noticed? It's best you don’t mention it.”

“Of course I noticed,” she forced her voice to sound light, “reading people it’s one of my talents. Azriel is very difficult to read, but not when it comes to Mor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated! 
> 
> I know this chapter seems too short and uneventful but it’s because it was too long so I cut it into two chapters. I’ll be posting the other update in a few days instead of a week. 
> 
> Yes, Meridian knows Azriel is in love with Mor. Like Azriel, Meridian is very observant and quiet about her observations.


	6. Ignoring the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhysand knows more than Meridian would like about her and Azriel and the bond between them. Mor takes Meridian to buy a dress for the night.

When they winnowed right out front the House of Wind, Cassian was waiting for them. “You gained weight!”

Meridian rolled her eyes. “You never say that to a lady,” she scoffed.

A few females that were walking by gave Cassian a look of disdain. Feyre nodded along, giving the Illyrian a dirty look. Cassian tried to redeem himself by lifting Meridian up into his arms and saying, rather loudly, “ah, my lady, you’re light as a feather!” 

He shot up into the sky before Meridian could fire back a retort. The Illyrian’s body was hot, which did not help her own body temperature under the leathers she wore. She might just start using Illyrian leathers for the rest of her life whenever she needed to. The ones she wore—the gift from Tamlin—were rather nice but not very suitable for summer.

Cassian landed in the balcony and let her down on her feet. “Nice leathers,” he eyed her down. “But those aren’t the ones you left with.”

Feyre landed behind Cassian as Meridian replied, “I didn’t know you kept track of my outfits.”

The Illyrian grinned throwing an arm around her shoulders as they followed Feyre inside. “The ones you left with were pretty, I considered buying myself the exact same.” 

“Is that so?” She snorted. “Let’s go together then, I ripped mine.”

“Gross,” Mor called from the lounge chair, “I would crawl out my eyes if Cassian wears those pretty leathers.” 

Cassian gave her a vulgar gesture and Meridian took the distraction as an opportunity to escape his muscled arm. Feyre was already sitting next to Rhysand, who was making a face at the image of Cassian wearing sexy leathers. 

“I know I’m late but I need to change into something more comfortable,” she said.

Rhysand nodded his head and Meridian wasted no time heading to her room, ignoring the shadows as she passed. She did not take long to get changed into plain pants and a shirt. When she returned she sat in the armchair across from Armen, who was caressing the ruby necklace she wore. 

Rhysand did not ask her any questions, he simply waited for her to narrate on her own. Perhaps she should simply allow him into her mind so he could see everything for herself. But her entire being found the thought repulsive. Even if she trusted Rhysand, she had been trained to never let anyone inside the fortress she had built around her mind. 

"There isn't much to say," she began, "there's significant improvement if I compare him to when I arrived. He was drunk, the door open for anyone to walk in. I don't even think he would've fought me if I tried to kill him."

“At least he knows he deserves it,” said Mor.

“What about the fight?” Cassian questioned.

She ignored him and continued. “I managed to convince a gardener and two maids to work at the manor and I am trying to recruit others through them. I made him meet the guard in charge of patrols—yeah, he hadn’t bothered to meet him before I arrived. Vane keeps him informed now in regards to patrol shifts and positions. The Autumn Court hasn’t made a move, but there were two naga that neared the mortal lands. That was about four days after I arrived, the Summer Court guards and I took care of it, Tamlin was drunk. I hid the liquor after that, he wasn’t very happy. What I have been working on is him, Tamlin.” She glanced at Feyre, she nodded her head. “I’m technically his babysitter. I got him to train with me and eat, he was in bad shape when I arrived but he has definitely improved. Vane has breakfast with us at least once a week and Tamlin is actually giving opinions on the guard posts now—that is an improvement, he would only sit there and listen the first three weeks.”

“Sounds to me like he’s doing the bare minimum,” Cassian snorted.

“It’s something,” she said, “at least I don’t have to drag him out of bed anymore.”

“Can you skip to the fight?” Armen drawled. Cassian grunted in agreement.

“We might not like to hear about his personal improvement,” said Rhysand, with a tone that said he specially didn’t like it, “but it is necessary. Meridian is great at making people do what she needs them to do. For Tamlin to enforce his borders we need him to gain back his people, for his sentinels to trust him enough to come back and guard his borders. But for that to happen, she needs to work on Tamlin first, make him care, make him try, and make him gain back the trust and respect of his people.”

“What about the fight?” Cassian insisted. “Az said you didn’t give him details. All you said was that you dislocated his shoulder and he clawed you.” 

Meridian rolled her eyes. Rhysand gave her a shrug, but she could tell that he was curious too. “He found two bottles and drank until morning. We were supposed to have breakfast with Vane before checking the guard posts but Tamlin wasn’t coming down so I went to call him. He was still drinking,” she paused, shaking her head. 

She was not going to tell them he was drinking because of Feyre, it did not need to be said for them to know and she didn’t want the conversation to get more awkward. 

“He was being dramatic and he kicked me out. So I told him to stop the drama act and start acting like a High Lord. He got pissed and I winnowed us out so he wouldn’t break anything. The maids only go four days a week, they weren’t there, but I didn’t want any broken furniture that would give them something to talk about. We fought—or rolled in the dirt punching each other until I kicked him off. Then his claws came out and he got me. I punched him—like when I punched Cassian—and dislocated his shoulder. Then I made a shield around me, I don’t really know how. It wasn’t fire, it was like a translucent blue shield around me. That sobered him up, he saw the blood, shifted and ran off. It really wasn’t bad, I was waiting for it. He held out longer than I thought. And he apologized. He didn’t come back all day until midnight and he apologized to me—that was when Azriel checked in.” She did not look his way as she mentioned him. 

“We are going to train tomorrow,” Cassian grunted, “you can dislocate both shoulders next time he tries to fight you.” 

“I would advise you to figure out how much power is hiding under your skin,” said Armen. “I suppose you could use the dog to practice your powers,” Cassian gave her a vulgar gesture. Armen ignored him and continued, “punch him, burn him, seal him in a shield with no oxygen, see how long he lasts.”

“There is plenty of room for creativity,” Mor added, waving away the cushion Cassian sent her way. 

“What did Tamlin say when you left?” Rhysand asked.

“He did get a little pissy,” she admitted. “He asked if I was going to tell you everything,” as she had, “I told him I was there to make sure no one tried to pass through his border to get to the mortal lands and he dropped it. After the fight, I convinced him to do a small Summer Solstice party for the guards that are going to stay on their post during the celebrations at the Summer Court. I told the maids and the gardener to spread the word on the village. I’ll go to the village myself when I go back, see if I can get anyone interested.”

“You’re only back for five days?” Cassian gaped.

“Three.”

Cassian pivoted towards Rhysand with an incredulous look on his face. “She’s only back for three days?”

Rhysand shrugged. “I fought her enough so she would come back for three,” he said. “She’s a dedicated worker.”

“That decides it then,” Mor announced, “we’re going out for dinner and we’re going dancing after.”

“I leave the plans to you,” Rhysand drawled as he stood, “I need to steal Meridian for a few.” 

Meridian followed the High Lord to the private balcony of another room. Rhysand leaned against the carved rock and stared out at the busy city. “There’s a bank account with your pay and a bonus for putting up with Tamlin’s moods.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “Mor was pissed that I sent you to the Spring Court. She was right that it was too soon to send you on a job when you didn’t even have time to recover from centuries of imprisonment.” 

“I’m fine.”

Rhysand sighed. “I know that too. I trust you to know what you need. And when you volunteered to go I knew that you were right. You are able to lock away your feelings and do a job perfectly. I sent you because you were the only one I could trust to do an efficient job, to do what needs to be done, be it coaxing a High Lord with flattery or punching him in the face. I knew I could trust you with Tamlin and when you offered, even if I wished you had more time for yourself before putting you to work, I think perhaps you needed it too.”

“You trust me after five hundred years?” She arched her brows.

The High Lord smiled softly. “I do.”

“Well good,” she let out a long breath, “because the only reason I dragged myself out of that cell was because I still trusted you.”

“What about—“

“Rhys, I am still not letting you into my mind.”

Rhysand groaned. It was good to hear that he trusted her so much, after all those years. Meridian had a lot of crucial information when she was captured but she had not revealed a single word of it. It would have compromised Rhysand’s location among other war-camps. No form of torture had drawn out a single word from her. 

Meridian glanced at him, to see if he was finished, but his back was a little stiff as he stared at the Sidra. “We have heard whispers,” he began, “about Lords in the continent getting curious about the unruled mortal land.”

She remained calm, though she knew what was coming. 

“There is no talk of any Lords sending their people to try to get through,” he said, “but it is best to be prepared. Azriel is going to send his best spies to plant themselves across the continent, to listen for any talk or plans. He has planted spies there before, but you have plenty of useful information. I need you to talk to Azriel, tell him everything you know. 

Meridian had plenty of information. The male who had once been her Lord had trained her since she was five years old. At twelve she was already lurking in the shadows between borders and trading information with other Lords. He called her his Precious Pearl, her talents never disappointing him. She wondered if he was still alive and if he had heard of her supposed death.

“I can write you a report on everything I know,” she said flatly, “it will be five hundred years outdated, but I’m sure you can find useful information.”

“You could speak to Azriel directly,” Rhysand suggested, “he might have questions.”

“I’ll be very detailed,” she replied plainly.

Rhysand looked at her and she returned his tentative glaze with a cold glare. “You didn’t even look at him,” he said carefully. 

“Does he know you know?” She snapped. “I doubt he told you.”

“He was worried about you,” he swallowed. 

Rhysand was smart and he knew he was walking a dangerous territory. Meridian was good at controlling her emotions, but she could see enough in Rhysand to know that he had been damaged during his years Under the Mountain. She knew he had seen a glimpse of her damage too. When he had looked at her and realized who she was—when Mor held her and their eyes met—Rhysand had seen through her enough to see the deep rooted damage. 

“I told him,” he continued warily, “that you could handle yourself. That if you hadn’t sent word it was because you were fine. But he insisted. I wondered why. I didn’t see him interact with you much when you were here, so I was confused as to why he seemed so desperate to check on you.”

“Rhysand,” she said his name as a warning.

“I saw,” he continued with a death wish, “I saw why. I didn’t have to try very hard when he was screaming it in his head—that his mate had been hurt.”

“This is none of your business,” she snarled. 

He grabbed their wrist but she yanked her arm away. “Meridian I know it doesn’t concern me, but Azriel deserves to be happy and you do too.”

“He started avoiding me when he realized what we are,” she snapped, the sun rays seemed to bounce off her skin as a wicked coldness surrounded her. “He wants nothing to do with me and I am perfectly fine with that. Stay out of it.”

She walked past him and intended to go lock herself up in her room, but she found Mor on her way back to the others with a glass of water. “Do you have a sexy dress to go dancing?”

Rhysand came up behind her and Mor narrowed her eyes at him and then at her reading the tension.” Did you fight?” She asked bluntly. “What did you do?” She gave her cousins an incredulous look.

“Mer—“ Rhysand tried, but she ignored him.

“I don’t,” she answered Mor. “Let’s go shopping.”

Mor linked her arm with her, jolting a little at the coldness of her skin but did not comment on it. “Feyre!” She shouted as they walked into the sitting room. “We’re going shopping before Meridian chucks your mate out the balcony, care to join?”

Feyre almost spit out her tea. 

  
  


The High Lady did end up joining them, Armen declined and left to her apartment, saying she would see them at dinner. Feyre and Mor did not dare ask about her clash with Rhysand—probably because her eyes looked cold as death, capable of freezing the Sidra, challenging the early summer sun. Her mood improved after she checked her bank line—Rhysand was paying her handsomely—and buying the new leathers. One of the gear suits was exactly as the one Tamlin had shredded and the other was different, the leather more breathable while offering extra padding where it was necessary. 

She let Mor choose the dress for the night, her only condition was a closed back, Mor silently agreed to that. Her friend had made her try several dresses ranging from bright to dark colors. Mor already had an eye on two, but she said it was never good to pick from only two options. Meridian wandered around the store with Feyre when her gray eyes landed on a long straight cut dress. It was beautiful, aquamarine chiffon with floral and stardust gold pattern embroidered in iridescent sequins. It had a low V neck cut, and at the bottom, three layers of gathered aquamarine tulle edges like overlapping waves. It resembled a picture of an exploding star dusting gold over aquamarine waves. 

“It’s beautiful,” said Feyre.

“It is,” Meridian whispered.

“Try it on,” the High Lady suggested. 

“What—no,” she shook her head quick, but Feyre had already called on a hovering employee and told her Meridian would be trying on the dress. Mor was at their side in an instant, already holding another dress. 

“Try it on,” Feyre insisted as the High Fae female held the door of the dressing room open for her. 

Mor eyes sparked when she took in the dress. “That is beautiful. If you don’t buy it Rhysand is buying it for you for pissing you off.”

Meridian scoffed.

The blonde pushed her inside the dressing room and shut the door. “Try it on, we want to see.”

They did not need to pressure her more because Meridian was enchanted with the dress. She slipped out of her plain clothes and carefully slid the dress down her body. The last time she had worn such a beautiful, delicate dress had been six months before she left her Lord. There had been a grand party for his son, Arron. Arron had asked her to wear a lilac tulle dress dotted with shimmering sequins—he had hired a well known seamstress to make it for her. Later that night, Arron had undressed her like a gift and made love to her. 

Meridian caught sight of herself in the mirror and was startled to find that her dark waves of hair were white and her brown eyes silver. Her eyelashes had remained long and black but her eyebrows were white as snow. The dress she wore was aquamarine tulle and gold embroidery, not lilac and she stood in a dressing room not in the ballroom of Lord Terron’s manor. She turned her body slightly, her face twisting in disgust. The back of the dress was cut in a V as the front, revealing her scarred back.

“What did Rhysand do?” Feyre asked, her words measured. 

Meridian sighed. “He wants information about my past Lord—from when I lived in the continent.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“I will tell him anything he wants,” she said. What she did not want was to be forced to work with Azriel. “But he tried to talk about my feelings.”

Mor snorted. 

Meridian opened the door.

Feyre and Mor blinked at her, eyes traveling from head to two. “You’re buying it,” Mor declared, then corrected herself, “Rhys is buying it.”

“No,” she swallowed the lump on her throat. “It has an open back. 

Feyre and Mor stared at the mirror behind her, which reflected the view of her scarred back. They averted their gaze quickly. “I’m sure they can fix that,” said Feyre, Mor nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t need it,” she shrugged. “We came looking for a dress for tonight, where would I wear this to?”

She took the dress Mor was holding and closed the door before they could complain. The dress was black satin that clung to every curve and dip of her body, it went all the way to her ankles but it had double slits that showed her legs. It was sleeveless but closed at the back and a cowl neckline at the front. She might have argued that it revealed too much of her legs and that it left not a single curve of her body to the imagination, but her mood had dropped again and she did not want to try on another.

She opened the door and forced a smile. “This one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post yesterday but I was too tired after work. Sorry for the delay! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Rhysand totally ships Azriel and Meridian.
> 
> Next chapter gets much more interesting!


	7. Desired, Rejected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner Circle goes out for dinner and continue the night at Rita’s. Meridian find herself desired by a handsome high fae who offers to take her home and show her a good time, but Meridian would rather have an Illyrian bastard.

Mor had gone to her room two hours before they had to leave for dinner to help her dress. Meridian had been sitting in front of the vanity with the bathrobe still wrapped around her body and a towel around her head. Mor wore a crimson dress with a single slit and a deep V cut at the front and back. Her lips were painted the color of blood and her eyelids glittered gold. 

Her friend smiled at her and held up a box that was surely filled with makeup and jewelry. How could Azriel not be in love with her? Morrigan was stunning. 

Nuala came behind her, the twin’s dress blurred by shadows. Mor started on her face while Nuala dried and styled her hair in more prominent waves than her natural ones. 

“You’re beautiful,” Mor whispered as she applied shimmer to her eyelids, the brush tickling her skin, “there is not much to do.”

Meridian opened her eyes and blinked at her own reflection. Her hair was in prominent waves, draped over her shoulders and down her back. Mor had not gone overboard with the makeup. She had applied loose silvery translucent shimmer to her eyelids and lined her lash line very delicately and ther long lashes were darker as well. She had added a slight tint to her pale cheeks and held a clear gloss between her fingers. 

“Nuala will help you with the dress,” said Mor, “the gloss last so you don’t smear it over it when you put it on.” 

Mor could’ve forgone the blush because when Nuala showed her the underlings she must wear so they wouldn’t show through the dress, her face heated up immediately. 

  
  


Meridian had been glad that Feyre had helped her convince Mor that tall heels were not necessary to show off the slits of the dress. She hadn’t worn heeled shoes for centuries but she painfully remembered the days of practice she would undergo before a ball or party that required her to dress up. 

Males stared at the pair as they walked into the restaurant and were guided to their table, not that it was necessary. Feyre, Rhysand, and Elain must have arrived a minute earlier because they were just sitting down when they arrived. Feyre and Rhysand were sitting across from each other, Elain at her sister’s side, Azriel next to her and then Armen. Next to Rhysand was an open seat and then Cassian, followed by another empty chair. 

Feyre smiled at them as they arrived, her eyes approving the look. Rhysand turned his head so he could see them, he nodded his head. “I agree, The Moon’s Muse would be the perfect title for such a painting.”

Feyre blushed. He must have responded to one of her thoughts.

Cassian turned his head and spat out the wine he had just sipped. 

“Pig,” Armen made a face of disgust.

“Pay up,” he coughed, pivoting towards Rhysand. “I told you Mor would pick her dress.”

“Clean your spit,” Mor scoffed at him.

Meridian could feel Azriel’s eyes on them, no doubt staring at Mor. She did not look at him to confirm it and watched Cassian wipe the chair so she could sit as Mor sat between him and Rhysand.

The way the satin brushed against her skin was the reminder that she was not nude as the lightness of the fabric and the way the males that had seen her pass by had stared at her made her believe. She took Cassian’s wine and drowned it down in two gulps.

“You look lovely,” she told Elain, who wore a blush pink dress with dark pink embroidered flowers at the top. 

“Thank you,” Feyre’s sister smiled gently, her brown eyes blinking at her black dress as she added, “I can go shopping with you next time, if you want.”

Cassian coughed to hide a snort as he glanced at Mor, she showed him one of her manicured fingers.

Rhysand cleared his throat. “Before we order,” he began, his voice tuning into the dramatics, “I would like to ask to put aside any resentful feelings. Let us forgive one another as it is the tradition of this dining table and enjoy a peaceful evening.”

Cassian snorted. “Since when is that tradition?”

“Since today,” said Rhysand. 

Feyre rolled her eyes at her mate and eyed Meridian.

Meridian pushed her glass—Cassian’s stolen glass—so he could pour more wine. “Sure, Rhys.”

The conversation was light as they waited for the food, which did not take long to arrive. Even as they ate, the conversation flowed smoothly until Elain mentioned Nesta and Cassian tensed while everyone fell silent. Surprisingly, it was Azriel who picked up the conversation and carried it away from the topic of the older Archeron sister. 

She started noticing then, how softly and kindly the shadowsinger spoke to Elain. He explained things to her when they spoke of something unknown to her and returned her soft smiles with some of his own.

The fork grew hot under her palm so she drank wine with her left. Armen arched an eyebrow at her and when Meridian did not break her gaze she raised her glass of wine and drank with her.

Cassian noted her plate and made a sound of disapprovement. “You barely ate.”

“You don’t have to mother me anymore,” she rolled her eyes at the Illyrian, “I am at a healthy weight. You called me fat when you saw me.”

Rhysand choked on the bite he was chewing. He drank from his glass of water to pass the food, then leaned forward to look at her incredulously. “But you didn’t get angry with him?”

Feyre sighed and sipped her wine.

Meridian gave the High Lord a cold look. “He didn’t meddle with things that don’t concern him.”

Armen snorted, glancing at Cassian. “That is what he does most of the time, girl.”

“I am her trainer,” Cassian defended himself. “Her weight is my concern.” His lips curled into a smirk as he turned to Rhysand. “Rhysie must have  _ really _ meddled if he pissed her off.”

Mor sighed gravely. “Why can’t you Illyrians mind your own business?”

Cassian and Rhysand threw the blame at the other back and forth and Feyre called them Illyrian babies.

…

Meridian sat in the bar far away from Azriel while everyone else was lost on the dance floor. Elain had left after dinner, saying dancing in clubs was not her thing and since Armen declined Rita’s as well, she offered to walk Elain home. 

Mor had forced her to dance when they first arrived but she managed to slip away after a handsome High Fae male danced his way between the two. 

A male with short blond hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and high cheekbones was sitting on the stool next to her. He had bought her three drinks and was whispering in her ear as she remained unfazed, staring at the moving bodies under bright lights. He bought her a fourth drink and felt entitled to tuck her hair behind her ear and run his fingertip down her jaw, which turned icy cold under his touch.

He gasped in shock but did not back away. Their eyes met and he smiled seductively, leaning down to whisper how beautiful she looked. 

She smiled back at him and her gaze returned to the dance floor. Meridian tilted her head a little as the male felt more daring and pressed a kiss behind her ear. He nuzzled his nose down her neck, tilting her head more and the cold blood in her veins melted and burned hotly as she caught Azriel’s stare. He was staring at her wide-eyed, his hand curled around broken glass as the bartender hurried to clean the spilled drink mixed with blood. 

Meridian felt her heart beat alive, thudding hard and fast inside her chest and threatening to break her ribs open to escape its prison. The blond male was whispering against her skin, telling her her scent was delightful and that he wanted to peel her dress very slowly and lick her until she cried in pleasure. But Meridian’s gray eyes remained on her unmated mate who was still holding her gaze even as the bartender cleared the glass from his palm.

She waited for him, feeling beautiful and desired for the first time in a long time. The white haired female could not even feel the male at her side, could not hear his whispers and his touches. All she could feel was her blood heating under her skin, breasts heavy and nipples hard in response to Azriel’s gaze.

There was a flash of crimson, the male that had squeezed himself between Mor and Meridian was buying the blonde a drink. They stood a few stools past Azriel, but he must have heard Mor’s voice because his gaze immediately turned to the other side. Meridian felt a jolt of pain go through her as she stared at the back of Azriel’s head. 

The male at her side must’ve mistaken it for pleasure because he asked her if she wanted to go to his place.

Meridian nodded.

  
  


She still did not know his name as he pressed her against the door of his apartment. Perhaps he had whispered it to her, but she could not remember. He licked her neck expertly and pressed his hardness between her legs as he held her by the thighs. 

“Bed,” she muttered.

He held her firmly as he carried her down the hall and then another, he was twitching against her. Meridian shut her mind off, shielding herself against her own memories because this was different. He was a stranger but she wanted it. She wanted to have sex with him, it was her choice and all she had to do was say no if she changed her mind. If he insisted after that she was in shape to punch the lights out of him. 

Finally, he kicked a door open and draped her over his bed, wasting no time to press his lips against her. He was handsome and he whispered again and again how beautiful she was, how her hair looked like snow over his dark sheets and how her breasts felt warm under his palms. 

He kissed down her body over the dress until he reached her abdomen and hunched up her dress. He growled at the sight of the black lace underthings that only covered her front. The male pressed his thumb against her bundle of nerves and lapped at her wetness over the lace. 

“You taste so good,” he purred. 

He chucked off his shirt quickly and unbuckled his pants, hazel eyes staring at her hungrily. Meridian shuddered and closed her eyes, seeing the hazel eyes even in the darkness. The male grabbed her dress and slowly pulled it off her body. Meridian opened her eyes and looked away from the blond hair, letting him sit her on his lap as he explored her bare skin. Her nipples were only covered by two sticky circles that had kept them from showing through the dress. 

The male asked her something but she didn’t hear what he said as he pressed her against the bed and turned her by the hips so that she lay on her stomach. His hands went cold against her skin and he pulled away. “What in the cauldron’s name—“

Meridian turned over to look at him, his face was pale and his lips twisted in disgust. She held her breath at his disgusted expression, his erection now limp. Her eyes burned and she was reached for the sheets to cover herself quickly.

“I—I was just surprised,” he croaked, “you should’ve warned me about the scars—“

Meridian grabbed her dress and ran out the room, he hadn’t bothered to take off her shoes and he did not bother to follow her out. She hastily untangled the sheets from her body and slipped on the dress. She was out of his apartment less than a second later, running without recognizing the streets until she ran past a main street and saw the Sidra in the distance. She ran towards it, her body burning hot in shame and embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid? She knew that no male would want her. Even if the ash wood wounds had healed, they had left nasty scars behind. Tamlin had been sick to his stomach at the sight of her back, she had told herself then that she would never show herself to another male. Because no male would want to see her scarred skin.

But she had wanted to. She was a female and she had been locked up for five hundreds years, all the decisions about her body stripped away as she grew thin, as they tortured and used her. Meridian had a choice with that stranger. She had let him take her home and his touches had felt good. She wanted to reclaim the power she had over her own body. The weight was back and she could fight to defend herself, but she could never be intimate with a male without them feeling disgusted.

Meridian was on fire by the time she reached the Sidra, her tears burned down her cheeks and her chest threatened to explode in flames and consume her whole. She needed to cool down but her cries only made her burn hotter. She lifted herself up over the stone railing and jumped into the dark waters of the Sidra.

The water was cold and splashed against the fortress of her mind but even as her heart twisted in pain her mind and her walls remained impenetrable. She willed the fire insider her to dissipate and it did. Her skin cooled and—rough hands grabbed her and yanked at her. A muscled arm wrapped itself around her waist and she was pulled from the dark waters to the night sky in a soar. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Cassian snarled. 

He held her tightly even as they landed on the bridge, both of them soaked. Cassian paid no mind to the judging glances as he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. 

“Answer me!”

“I—I was burning,” she stammered, “on the inside.”

“So you jumped in the Sidra?” He bellowed.

“I know how to swim,” she whispered, “I was going to get out when the fire beneath my skin calmed down.”

Cassian let go of her shoulders and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Let’s go to the house, we’re dripping wet.”

Meridian shook her head. “I don’t want to go there.”

“What about the town house?”

She shook her head.

Cassian sighed, but his voice was soft. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.”

The Illyrian grabbed her hand and led her down the bridge towards the opposite direction of the House of Wind. She did not even notice the stares and her tears continued to silently roll down her cheeks. Cassian took her to a hotel and hurried her into a room. He told her to take a bath. Meridian stayed in the bath for a while until Cassian knocked on the door asking if she’d drowned. 

She wrapped a bathrobe around her body and walked out looking grim only to find Cassian lounging on the large bed, showered and wrapped in a robe just like hers. The door that connected her room to another was wide open. He had asked for two rooms and had showered in the other and for the looks of it he had time to ask for some wine. 

He offered her a glass, she took it and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“About the powers I can’t control?”

Cassian sighed. “Only if crying is one of them.”

For five hundred years, she had bottled everything up and separated her mind from her heart and soul so she wouldn’t break whole. But now, even with her fortress as impenetrable as always, she needed to tell someone. She needed to free the squeezing pressure of her heart. So she climbed over the bed, careful not to spill the wine and sat against the headboard next to Cassian.

“I left Rita’s with someone,” she started, “I went to his place and—“

“Did he hurt you?” Cassian snarled.

Meridian drank the wine in one go and handed her glass to Cassian before slumping against him. He was warm.The Illyrian placed both glasses in the nightstand, next to the two bottles of wine. 

“I hadn’t been with anyone for five hundred years—not by my own will anyway.” Cassian tensed. “But I wanted to have sex with him. I wanted to have a choice and to feel good. He complimented me for hours at Rita’s and I felt desired. I—I went to his place and it was going well, but he took my dress off and when he saw my scars—“ her voice cracked and tears slid down her face. “When he saw my back he was disgusted.”

Cassian cursed loudly and pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as she cried. As her tears fell, it felt like draining a tall glass that had been overflowing for years—four centuries. The pressure over her chest felt lighter as the Illyrian rubbed her back soothingly and told her to let it out. She felt vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt when she was a prisoner because she had always masked her pain. But she wore no mask now. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she was completely nude under the robe and Cassian probably was too, his clothes had been as soaked as hers. She was vulnerable in every aspect, yet she felt safe. 

Meridian felt safe in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, it was a feeling she had locked away and looked back into when she thought of her brother. As Cassian held her until her sobs quieted and her tears stopped running down her face, she remembered how her brother would hold her hand when she was scared or how he would carry when they went exploring the forest behind their house and she complained her legs were tired. 

When the tall glass that had held her bottle up tears drained, she asked Cassian for a glass of wine and he chuckled as he poured it for her. 

“If you give me a name I’ll knock his teeth out,” Cassian offered as she took a gulp of wine.

Meridian shook her head. “I should’ve known better. Who would want to see a disturbingly scarred back before having sex?”

Cassian growled. “It was probably some wimpy, rich High Fae that has never touched a blade in his life or stood in a fight.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she turned the cup between her fingers, “he went limp the moment he saw me. It will always be like that, even if I had gone with another male, the reaction would’ve been about the same. Tamlin threw up when he clawed out the ash wood splinters. They aren’t small scars, Cassian, they’re disturbing.”

“You will find someone who will look past them,” Cassian promised, “maybe you’ll find a mate and have a happy ending and that bastard that took you home tonight is going to regret what he did.”

“Have you been reading romance novels?” She tried to joke, but her voice came out a little strained at the mention of a mate.

Cassian chuckled nonetheless and filled both of their glasses. Meridian drank half of it and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headboard. 

“I have a mate,” she said, her voice a small whisper. Perhaps Cassian did not hear it, because the silence stretched for several minutes. 

She was going to ask Cassian for more wine as she drowned the rest when he spoke. “You have a mate?”

Meridian gave him a sideways glance and nodded. “He rejected me. I—I might have rejected him too.” Cassian filled her glass and said nothing, letting her continue. “I think people whose bonds snap into place after they are already in love are lucky. I—I hadn’t spoken more than a few words to him when I felt it. At first I dismissed it for nothing. I wasn’t well and I didn’t even stop to consider it. But then I felt it again later, a tug whenever he was present. And then he touched me and I was sure. I knew what it was. He knew too. He ignored it, so I ignored it too. When I first met him, I didn’t know much about him—“ only the stories Rhysand had told her when he bragged about himself and his two Illyrian friends, but she couldn’t tell him that. “—but I was in a bad place and I couldn’t even think about a mate. When he ignored the bond I didn’t care, I was relieved because I didn’t need more to think about. I even thought that he had ignored the bond because he knew I couldn’t afford to think about it. But then I realized he was in love with someone else. I left and I tried not to think about it—not to think about him. I thought I succeeded. But I didn’t. It was always a thought away. When I saw him again I acted normal, he acted normal—if not more avoidant. But there was a small hope because for a small moment when I was hurt he showed he cared about me. But I think it was just the bond messing with me, I read too much into it. I shouldn’t have deluded myself because I already knew that he was in love with someone else.”

Cassian was frowning. “Was he already with someone else when you met him?

“No,” she said, relieved that he hadn’t given much up and her use of past tense could be interpreted at any point in her long life. 

She couldn’t tell him about the way her so called mate had looked at her when she was with another male and how she had thought he might want her but he had turned away from her once again to look at her friend who he was in love with. How she had gone to another male’s place instead and had seen Azriel’s hazel eyes when she closed her eyes. Meridian couldn’t risk wording it and Cassian putting it together with what had just happened to her. 

“He was in love with someone but they didn’t love him back.” 

At least that was what she could read from Mor. Cassian was a bridge for their friendship, but a wall so they wouldn’t get closer. Meridian had met Mor during the war and they had grown close immediately. She knew how much she despised her family and the horrors they had put her through. They had exchanged stories inside a tent, tired and sore from battle. Meridian had told her about her parent’s death and how her brother had hidden her and promised to come back when he was safe, but when he did not return. She had wrapped the shadows around her to get her out of the well he had hidden her in. It was the first time the shadows had obeyed without strain. She had found her brother dead, torn apart by the naga. 

She had wandered into the village asking for help and a male had taken pity on her. Lord Torren’s right hand. 

In exchange, Morrigan told her about herself. She told her about the Court of Nightmares and how her father had tried selling her to the highest bidder like she was nothing but a mare for breeding. How she had sullied herself by sleeping with a Illyrian bastard—Cassian, who at the time Meridian didn’t know. She told her how she had been punished for it and left in the borders of the Autumn Court with a note nailed to her womb. The name Azriel had been nothing but the male that found Mor after Eris left her there after he found her with that note.

She had heard so much about Cassian and Azriel from Rhysand already and after hearing Mor’s story she had wanted to meet the Illyrians more. Five hundred years later she found a friend in Cassian and a mate bond trying to tie Azriel to her.

Cassian, who had not spoken for a while suddenly went very pale and drank his entire glass of wine. Meridian nervously sipped her glass.

“Your mate is Tamlin.”

She spat out her wine and sprayed Cassian’s and her own royal blue bathrobe. “No!” She coughed, palming her chest. “How could you even think that?”

“You met him when you were in a bad place and you left to come to the Night Court,” Cassian mistakenly explained. “He is still in love with Feyre and you returned to Spring Court and acted as babysitter. When you two got in a fight you said he ran off when he realized he had hurt you and then he apologized. I get why you wouldn’t want us to know and why—“

Meridian started laughing so loud and hard her body shook and the Illyrian managed to take away the glass of wine before she spilled it. 

“What?” He grunted. “Is it not that bastard?”

She shook her head trying to calm down. “No!” She clutched her stomach with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. “It isn’t Tamlin.”

“Was it someone from the past then?” He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks were a little flushed in embarrassment from his deductions. “During the war? Before the war?”

She nodded, not wanting him to reassess her words and discover the truth. At least not for now, she didn’t know how long Azriel would go without confiding on his friend, he seemed secretive enough to never tell a soul. Rhysand knew because he had meddled in his mind, but if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t breathe a word of it. 

“I guess mate bonds don’t always work out,” he handed her the glass of wine back. “Look at Elain and Lucien.”

“Elain has a mate?” She gasped.

Cassian nodded and told her about the day she was turned and Lucien realized she was his mate. Feyre had not mentioned that Elain had a mate. She had mentioned Lucien a few times. She knew Lucien was from the Autumn Court but had been exiled and Tamlin had taken him in his court as an emissary. She knew that Lucien had escaped with Feyre from the Spring Court after she completed her revenge. But as Cassian told her how Elain had been in love and engaged with a mortal before she was Made by the cauldron and how it had destroyed her to leave him and then have him reject her she understood how it was not something that Feyre would want to talk about. Elain refused to acknowledge the mate bond and Lucien came every now and then but mostly just sent reports to Rhysand from the mortal lands. 

When he was finished, the wine was a buzz beneath her skin but even then she was careful as she asked, “is Nesta your mate?”

Cassian went still for a moment, then drowned his wine. “No. Did Feyre tell you something?”

She shook her head. “You always get tense when she’s mentioned,” she said softly, “and it’s your eyes that tell me that it’s because you feel something for her. You look like you’re in pain.”

The Illyrian sighed. “She wants nothing to do with me and I try not to think of her but it’s—it’s impossible not to.”

“How about we get more wine and you tell me everything?” She suggested. “It isn’t fair that I cried my heart out to you.” 

Cassian's lips twitched. "We might as well crawl our way back to the house tomorrow, why not." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to Azriel to watch from a safe distance but not dare get close. 
> 
> Can you tell I love Cassian? He deserves the world. He and Meridian and officially bffs 👯♀️


	8. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian wakes up alone at the hotel and when she returns to the House of Wind she finds a very angry Azriel.

Meridian woke up groaning at whoever was knocking on her door. She rolled out of bed, her head pounding and cursed the sun for slipping into the room through the parted curtains. She yanked the door open and was met with a short, light blue skinned female holding up a black dress. It was her dress, the one she had worn the previous night.

"Your partner brought down your clothes when he left and asked we launder them," she explained as she handed her back the freshly laundered dress. 

"Thank you," she said, not bothering to explain that Cassian was not her partner. 

She was tempted to ask at what time the Illyrian had left but her throat felt like sandpaper and she needed a bath to calm her pounding head.

"This too," she handed her a paper bag and her cheeks were a darker shade of blue as she excused herself and ran off. 

Meridian closed the door quietly and peeked inside the bag. Her cheeks flamed. Inside the bag were the black panties that were nothing but lines at the back and a small patch of lace fabric at the front. She cursed out Cassian and she marched towards the small table in the corner of the room and drank two glasses of water. 

She winced as she noticed the four bottles of wine in the night stand. But she walked over to it as she noted the paper propped against one of the bottles. Cassian had left a note.

_ Good morning Grumpy,  _

_ Something came up in Windhaven. I woke you up before I left but all you said was no, no, no and cursed at me when I asked you if you wanted me to fly you to the House before I left. The room is paid for until you leave and your clothes should be washed by the time you wake up.  _

_ -Your favorite Illyrian  _

The shower did help ease her pounding headache slightly, but she still winced as she slipped on her shoes. Meridian rubbed her temples as she left the room and walked down three sets of stairs. She saw the blue female as she walked through the entrance hall and they both blushed and averted their eyes.

She cursed the moment she walked out the hotel, the sun was too bright it sent sharp stabs of pain to her temples. She winnowed in front of the House of Wind, rubbing her temples as she looked up, wondering if Cassian was back or if Rhysand was there. There was no way she was braving the stairs and she was considering hurling her shoe at the balcony to see if someone was up there. But someone landed right in front of her before she could actually bend down to take off her shoe. His wings were wide behind him and his face was pure fury. 

Azriel grabbed her by the waist and shot up the sky. She pushed at his chest, not that was a good idea when they were flying, but his face—she had never seen him so angry, the shadows around him radiated anger and despair. The shadowsinger held her tighter, pressing her against his chest and holding her head at the crook of his neck. He turned in the air and dove down to the balcony. She had been seconds from throwing up but his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar soothed her. 

But it did not matter if his scent was soothing and appealing, the moment they landed on the balcony she pushed him off her. “Thanks for the bumpy ride, I almost threw up.”

Azriel's eyes seized her up, his gaze traveling from her face to her neck and his face darkened, the shadows curling at his feet as his gaze continued to her chest, and down her body. 

“It’s almost time for lunch.”

“I know what time it is,” she snapped. 

She was starving despite her headache and upset stomach. Meridian turned her back to the Illyrian and walked off. She was almost at the door of her room when the shadows came alive and Azriel grabbed her. He pressed her against the wall and cupped her face with his palms. One of his palms was bandaged and Meridian instantly remembered how he had looked at her the previous night, the broken glass on his palm, blood mixed with his drink. His face was twisted in pain and her heart soared as he pressed his forehead against hers. 

Meridian could feel the painful beat of his heart from how flushed their bodies were. “You went with him,” his voice raw.

He dropped his hands from her face but immediately wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against the crook of her neck. Meridian’s heart contracted painful against her rib cage, she gripped the Illyrian’s shoulders tightly.

“You were with him all night,” he sounded devastated, “and you didn’t come back until now. It’s almost lunch time.” 

“What do you care?” She whispered, dropping her hands from his shoulders, remembering how he had turned away from her to look at Mor.. “You didn’t want me.”

Azriel let go of her and stepped back, he did not look at her as the shadows swallowed him up.

Meridian walked into her room and slammed the door close. She peeled off the dress from her body and looked for clean underthings. The white haired female caught sight of herself in the mirror, her eyes going to the bruises the blonde male had left behind. She remembered how Azriel’s face had darkened when he saw the mark and shook her head. She dressed up in Night Court fashion pants and a light blue shirt.

She was wincing as she twisted and pinned a strand of hair at either side of her head when Cerridwen knocked on her door. 

Cerridwen handed her a tall glass of some sort of juice. “I mixed in some medicine.”

“Thank you,” she hummed before drowning down the entire thing. 

Cerridwen finished up her hair and found her a perfect pair of shoes for her outfit. “Lunch will be at the town house,” the half-wraith informed her, “Azriel is waiting for you to take you there.”

“He can wait all day,” she snapped, “I am not going anywhere with him.”

…

She braved the stairs. Cerridwen left to help with lunch and Meridian watched the shadows carefully as she snuck down the lower floors. She cursed the High Lord who had thought of such an inconvenient design several times. But at last, she made it out into the streets of Velaris. She stretched her legs and a tug on her chest called to her. Her gray eyes looked up and she swore under her breath at the sight of Azriel in the sky, wings stretched wide as he stared right at her. 

Meridian winnowed to the town house without a second thought. She knocked on the door and was surprised when Rhysand answered. He arched an eyebrow at her and glanced behind her. “Where’s Azriel?”

“Probably on his way,” she shrugged and stepped in.

“Didn’t he fly you in?” Rhysand frowned.

“I didn’t feel like flying,” she plainly stated, “so I braved the stairs and winnowed here.”

The High Lord stared at her in disbelief. “You didn’t feel like flying so you walked down ten thousand steps?”

“It’s a great work out,” she smiled at him, willing her legs to walk normally even though they were sore. “Cassian will be proud.”

She followed him past the antechamber to the sitting room where Mor was nursing a cup of wine and Armen was showing Feyre a new piece of jewelry.

Elain entered the room from the kitchen and offered Mor a cup of tea with medicine. Mor took the cup and thanked her. 

“Ah, you’re here,” Feyre smiled at her. 

Mor placed the wine glass on the low table and gave her a grim smile as she took a sip of tea. Meridian no doubt looked worse than Mor. The medicine had reduced her headache but it was still not completely gone and her throat felt dry as sandpaper.

“Well, now I know who had the most fun last night,” said Armen. 

Meridian dropped on one of the armchairs and closed her eyes. There was a knock on the door and Rhysand said he would get it again. 

A minute later Cassian and Azriel trailed behind Rhysand into the room. Cassian took one look at her and snorted. “You look like hell.”

She showed him a vulgar gesture and he laughed. 

“At what time did you wake up? It looks like someone dragged you right off the bed,” he went to sit on the arm of her chair despite her complaints.

“You’re gonna break it,” Rhysand sighed. 

Feyre gave him a cup of wine. 

“How are you not hungover?” She reproached, ignoring the pinch in her heart when Azriel sat next to Elain who had sat next to Mor.

“I had to go to Windhaven,” he shrugged, “I took a cold shower and had some pain medicine—and you drank way more than I did. I tried to wake you up but you cursed me out.”

Mor and Rhysand spat out their drinks at the same time. Elian quickly gave Mor a flowery handkerchief to wipe her spilled tea and Feyre took her mates' glass away. Azriel went rigid, the shadows blurring his edges and Elain either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Armen glanced at her with disgust. “I take my previous claim back, you poor girl, your night must have been awful.”

“I saw you go home with a good looking male!” Mor exclaimed. 

Rhysand’s face was grave as he looked between her and Cassian and then stole a glance at Azriel.

“Get your heads out of the gutter,” Meridian gaped at them. “I went to some male’s place but it didn’t work out and Cassian found me so we went drinking.” 

“Didn’t work out?” Mor frowned. “He was hot.”

Azriel was surrounded by shadows that Elain seemed to finally notice. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked if he was okay. The shadowsinger nodded and dissipated his shadows.

Meridian sat straighter against the armchair schooling her features into indifference as she scratched a speck of dried mud on Cassian’s knee. “He saw my scars,” her voice void of emotion, “and he didn’t want to sleep with me after.”

The entire room went silent and she didn’t dare look at them as she traced patterns over Cassian’s pants. 

“You should’ve come here,” Feyre said softly, “Azriel said you didn’t sleep at the House.”

“Cassian found me and I didn’t feel like going to the House or imposing here,” she shrugged, still not looking at them. “So Cassian took me to a hotel and we drank wine until Mother knows what time. I should start looking for a place next time I come.”

“You’re always welcomed to stay here,” Rhysand offered, his voice tight—from contained anger rather than pity. “But there are plenty of nice apartments if you want your own space.”

“I can help you look,” said Mor, her voice also tight despite her attempt to sound light. “And decorate.”

“Thanks,” she finally looked at her friend.

Elain stood to check on lunch and Meridian offered to help. She was not even out of the room when Mor was demanding Cassian to name the bastard. Cassian replied that if he knew who it had been they wouldn’t be alive anymore.

Nuala and Cerridwen confirmed that the food was ready. Elain and Meridian helped carry the platters to the table. While one of the twins informed the orders.

Elain brushed her hand against hers.

“There is him, who wants you,” Elain’a voice dropped to a whisper. “There is him, who will love you with your scars in a way he does not even accept his own.”

“What are you—who?” She stared at the Archeron sister wide-eyed.

Elain blinked and smiled at her softly before picking up the basket of bread and walking to the dining room. It took her minute to file away her words and collect herself before joining the others. She sat next to Cassian and the moment she did Azriel sat in the other chair next to her, leaving Elain to sit between Armen and Mor.

“Do you have preferences when it comes to apartments?” Mor asked as they began to eat.

“Not really,” she shrugged, then added, “not too big since I will only be using it a few days every four weeks. In a street that isn’t too busy or too quiet.”

Cassian nudged her arm and said, while still chewing, “we should get a place together.”

Rhysand coughed loudly and Mor scrunched up her face in disgust, mirroring Armen. Feyre looked at Rhysand for a long minute. 

“Swallow your food first before speaking,” Armen scoffed. “It’s disgusting.”

Cassian grunted at her and took a gulp of water.

“Where did that come from?” Mor grunted at Cassian. “You have never wanted to get your own place.”

“You keep telling me to get my own place but I won’t spend much time in it,” he explained, “so I didn’t want to bother with finding an apartment. But it’s going to be the same for Meridian so we could be roommates and get it over with.”

“Room with Azriel,” Mor suggested.

Cassian snorted. “I asked him once and the bastard said no. He wants his privacy,” he mocked.

She turned her head to the side, gray eyes sliding to glance at Azriel. But she quickly averted her gaze when she saw him staring right at her. 

“I want privacy too,” she told Cassian and stared down at her food. She was no daemati, but the several phrases Cassian could say in regards to privacy from the previous night played in her mind behind her walls. And the look on Rhysand’s face told her enough about the comments Cassian was going to say so she quickly said, “fine. Let’s look for an apartment. I want the bigger room.” 

Mor gave her an incredulous look, Feyre was still eyeing her mate suspiciously, Armen looked displeased, and Elain started telling them about some pretty drapes and rugs she had seen on display and that they should look at them once they found an apartment. Meridian nodded, telling her that she certainly would go see them—all while she tried to ignore the shadows clinging to her right leg. 

  
  


Cassian ended up falling asleep on the couch and Azriel disappeared right after dessert. Rhysand offered to take her to the House of Wind when she said she needed to go write the report. 

Rhysand sat in an armchair across from her while she started on the report about the faerie territories in the continent, waiting for him to talk. It did not take long, she was three lines in when he spoke.

“Azriel is very good at not showing his feelings,” Rhysand said carefully. “Yet when I went to tell him Feyre and I were leaving Rita’s, he looked like shit and he was drinking—a lot. I asked where you were and,” Rhysand shuddered. “I forget how terrifying and intimidating he can be, I was reminded last night when he told me you had left with some male.”

“I told you not to meddle,” she warned him. 

Rhysand raised his arms in surrender. “I am not trying to meddle. I am simply giving you information,” he lowered his arms. “I came this morning and he was brooding—this room was filled with shadows. He waited here, constantly going out the balcony to check if you had come back.”

“I don’t need this information,” she kept her voice plain but her mind was already filing it away. “And you  _ are _ meddling.”

Rhysand sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the armchair. “During the War, hearing my stories about myself and my bastard brothers might have not seemed important to you,” he said, “but it kept me sane. You didn’t know them, but you would get me the list of the casualties and tell me not to worry because you had already checked and they weren’t on the list. I wanted you to meet them. I thought once the war was over, you’d come to the Night Court and you would get to know them—but then your name was on the list.”

“I’m alive,” she whispered. 

“But you were dead to the world for centuries,” he said. “Mor and I bought a pearl and tossed it into the Sidra for you.”

She glanced up to hold the tears that threatened to fall down her report. “Can you not make me cry? Why are you telling me this? Our friendship has nothing to do with him.”

“It does,” said Rhysand. “I wanted you to meet them and then I thought you would never get to. But you are alive and you’re here. Azriel is your mate but you both refuse to acknowledge it. And Cassian—are you...I know it is not like that for him but I cannot read you.”

Meridian shook her head and looked at him. “It is not like that for me either. We’re friends. Last night,” she paused. She had not wanted to mention it in front of everyone, but she knew they would find out at some point. “After I left that male’s place I felt like I was burning inside and I couldn’t control it. I felt like the flames were going to consume me from the inside out. So I jumped into the Sidra.” 

Rhysand gaped.

“Cassian got me out and I didn’t want to come here or the town house.” She explained. “He took me to a hotel and gave me space to shower and think. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk about it and as surprising as it might seem, I did. I told him everything and he let me cry it out. He just held me and it reminded me of my brother. So don’t worry, I am not falling in love with the wrong bastard.”

“The right bastard being Azriel—“ she hurled the pen at him and it bounced off his chest. He frowned at it and picked it up. “I worry about what will happen if you continue to avoid the bond. I don’t want you to leave and I don’t want Azriel to lose his shot at happiness.”

“Feyre said you didn’t tell her she was your mate,” she glared at him, “so why are you so concerned on my mate bond?”

“That was different,” Rhysand waved his hand, “Feyre was with that bastard at the time and I thought she was happy with him. I was not going to force her to be with me if she was in love and happy with someone else.”

“Azriel is in love with Mor,” she said coldly and stood up. She walked away, taking the pen from Rhysand as she passed. “I will write the report in my room, do not disturb me.”

…

Being thoroughly detailed was useful but painful when it came putting all that information in writing. She wrote page after page and there seemed to be no end as her mind opened files and highlighted important information. She wrote about Lords and sons and guards and politics. The information was separated in categories. She wrote a page—often two or three—about each person. She wrote pages upon pages about places and about her own experience and duties when she worked for Lord Terron.

Her wrist ached after so many pages and her stomach growled. Dinner time had come and went without her notice. She set down the pen and stretched her arms and back, groaning. 

There was a knock at the door and Meridian called for them to come in, perhaps it was Nuala or Cerridwen with dinner. But it was not one of the twins of smoke and shadow, it was Azriel. He was carrying a tray of food, his gaze not leaving hers as he walked in and placed it on the low table in front of her.

“You didn’t come out for dinner,” he said, “I thought you might be hungry.”

She had no idea when Azriel had returned to the House and if they were alone or Cassian had returned as well. The Inner Circle had not planned dinner together because everyone had things to attend to, that was why they had lunch at the town house. 

“Thank you,” she said politely, stacking the pages together in order. “Is Cassian back?”

“No,” said Azriel. 

Meridian made herself busy, sorting the pages into the right order, waiting for the shadowsinger to leave. But he made no turn for the door, instead he sat down in the cushioned footstool that she had set aside. 

“Are you going to move in with Cassian?” 

Meridian tensed, finishing up her useless sorting of papers. “I will be going back and forth between here and the Spring Court—I mean, I’m spending more time there. So getting a place for myself right now would be a waste. But if Cassian and I move in together it makes it less of a waste.”

Azriel’s shadows silently swirled around their feet. “Cassian has no filters or boundaries,” he said, “he doesn’t know what privacy means.”

Meridian grabbed the plate from the tray and stabbed her fork through a piece of cut meat. “I’ll teach him.”

“He is a flirt,” Azriel warnded, his tone a little desperate. “He will tease you and flirt with you and it will get messy if you start misunderstanding his intentions.”

The white haired female laughed darkly. “I will not sneak into his bed at night if that is what you’re implying.”

“That’s not—“ he paused in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Meridian found it amusing, it was the longest conversation they had and the stone cold shadowsinger was not doing very well. He always seemed in control of his emotions, keeping a straight, indifferent expression on his face. But he seemed to be doing rather poorly lately. “I just thought that you should know that his heart is somewhere else. He does not like to talk about her but I wouldn’t want you to move in with him expecting something else.”

Meridian sipped the wine and kept a straight face as she glanced at him. “I know about Nesta. Cassian and I confide in each other. It is what friends do.”

“You’re friends, then?” The shadows eased from where they were gathering behind him. “You don’t have—you didn’t want to—with him?” 

She was amused indeed, arching her eyebrows as he stumbled over his words. Meridian was also slightly annoyed with his behavior. Again, he was acting like he cared about things that regarded her; he was giving her false hope like the night he checked in on her at the Spring Court, and when he broke the glass at Rita’s while he watched her, and like when he was furious when she arrived so late after staying out all night—when he believed she was in bed with a stranger. Her mind supplied her with Rhysand’s words, he had said that Azriel was in a terrible mood when he told him she had left with a male and that he had stayed up in the sitting room waiting for her to come home.

Meridian shut the files of her mind and took another bite of her food. Azriel watched her, still waiting for her response with a strained expression. Even then, she could not read him completely. She could not figure out the whole of him. His behavior could be jealousy but she discarded the thought. Azriel didn’t want her as his mate and he was in love with Mor. That brought her to another explanation. Perhaps it was because he was in love with Mor, who had chosen Cassian to lose her virginity instead of him. He was in love with Mor and she did not love him, she had slept with his friend once and never again, but perhaps it was a wound that had never healed for Azriel. Meridian was his mate and even if he did not want her, it was the possessive male stubbornness in him that did not want her to choose Cassian like Mor had. 

The thought made her angry, but she did not want to cause drama and misunderstandings just to spite him, so she answered truthfully. “I see Cassian as a friend, nothing else—actually he reminded me of my brother last night.”

The shadowsinger blinked at that, the shadows pressed against his shoulders vanished. Then he seemed to replay her words and looked at her curiously. “You have a brother?”

“Had,” she put down the wine. “He died when I was very small. “

“I am sorry,” he said sincerely, then added, “was he much like Cassian?”

Meridian laughed—covering her mouth quickly as she caught Azriel staring at her. “No,” she cleared her throat. “Mother no. My brother and Cassian are nothing alike—yet he reminded me of him, so perhaps they have some similarity that I cannot quite see.”

“What was your brother like?” His voice was soft like velvet.

Meridian smiled to herself. “He was gentle and caring. He was adventurous, loved to explore the forest and he would often take me with him. He was very kind and very protective.”

“Protectiveness might be the only trait he shares with Cassian,”said Azriel. “Your brother sounds very nice. It sounds like you were close.”

“We were.”

Azriel rose from the cushioned footstool and glanced down at her dinner and the pages of neat handwriting. “Eat and rest,” he said, “you can finish the report tomorrow, or take a few days and work on it at the Spring Court whenever you have the time.”

Meridian simply nodded his head.

“Good night,” Azriel said softly before slipping out of her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> 1.Rhysand really wants his otp together   
> 2\. Feyre is starting to suspect  
> 3\. What was Cassian going to say? Something like: “Privacy? I picked up your panties from the floor this morning.”  
> 4\. The longest, relatively civil conversation Azriel and Meridian have had since they confirmed they’re mates


	9. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian finished her report and it’s time to return the the Spring Court.

She ignored the banging on her door for five whole minutes before kicking off the sheets and stalking towards the door. She almost tore the door off its hinges as she yanked it open and glared at Cassian.

Cassian stumbled back, startled, but quickly composed himself and grinned. “Good morning grumpy, let’s train.”

“Fuck off.”

The Illyrian’s eyebrows almost went up to his hairline. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” He cackled. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“I slept at six,” she grunted.

“Ah, did you miss me?”

She kicked his ankle, curling her lip in satisfaction when he swore loudly and stumbled back. “If you’re going to be so annoying in the mornings I am going to change my mind about living with you.”

“Rhysand wants to talk to you too,” Cassian hissed. 

Meridian rolled her eyes and went back into her room, not bothering to close the door. She washed her face and rinsed her mouth. She glanced down at her sleeping clothes, satin shorts and a matching shirt that did not even cover her belly button. She grabbed a silk robe and tied it hastily around her waist. The white hair was not much of a mess as she didn’t move much in her sleep and she could not bring herself to care. She put on a pair of slippers and grabbed the thick stack of papers that could very well be a whole book. 

Cassian was at the doorway, watching her with amusement. He let her pass and followed behind her, mumbling about how he was also considering the consequences of having a grumpy roommate. 

“You stayed up writing a romance novel?” The Illyrian asked, glancing at the stack of papers in her hands when they entered the sitting room. 

She jabbed her elbow at his side, smiling when he grunted. Rhysand and Azriel looked toward them from where they were standing.

“Are you an alcoholic now?” Rhysand arched an eyebrow. “Tell me you didn’t raid my wine collection.”

“Prick,” she called him and handed him the stack of papers. “I stayed up writing this.”

Rhysand’s eyes widened as he took in the pages. “It is more than I expected, thank you.”

“If what you want to talk about isn’t urgent, wait until dinner,” she yawned, “I am going back to sleep.”

Azriel took the report from Rhysand, but his eyes were subtly glancing at her—even in her tired state she noted it. His Royal Darkness noted it too because he gave her a slow smirk. Meridian narrowed her eyes at him and then at Cassian. “Do not wake me up again or I’ll throw you off the balcony.”

Cassian raised his arms in surrender.

…

At dinner, Rhysand informed her that Tarquin had heard about her and Tamlin hosting a Summer Solstice party for his guards and had sent an invitation for them two to join him at the Summer Court at any point during the day for the festivities. Armen was in a delightful mood because she had been invited—by Prince Varian—and she had not extended the invitation to anyone despite Mor and Cassian’s insistence. 

Rhysand had said it was best that way. Tarquin had tried to extend the invitation to him and Feyre but both High Lords decided it was best they did not attend if Tamlin was invited. Rhysand said that Tamlin did not confirm his attendance but Meridian should convince him to go. 

Meridian was leaving at first light the following day, so she wouldn’t have time to shop for a dress. Mor had offered to let her borrow one and so had Feyre, but Meridian had refused. She was sure there was an ocean blue dress in her armoire from the clothes that Nuala and Cerridwen had found for her to wear before she did her own shopping. She had never worn the dress because it was more of a formal gown. 

She said her farewells that night after dinner and Cassian flew her to the House. 

The next morning, Azriel was waiting for her in the balcony at first light. She wore leather pants and a white tunic shirt that laced up at the chest. Her hair was loose, draped over her shoulders and back. The wind blew it against Azriel’s face when he stepped in her personal space to fly her down. 

The shadowsinger tucked the white hair behind her ears. “You smell like the night sky and forest mist.”

Meridian swallowed thickly, very aware of his hands, an arm circling her waist and a hand spread wide over her back. She grabbed onto his shoulders and he took off in flight. He held her tighter and even through the sound of the wind and the city below she heard him sniff at her hair and his body pressed tighter against her. 

She did not say anything as they landed in the street and he flew up to get her suitcase. She had only packed her new leathers, a dress for the party and two clean sets of clean clothes. She needed to wash the clothes she had left at the Spring Court. 

Azriel handed her the suitcase, his hazel eyes hesitant. She could sense that he wanted to say something, but he didn’t and she tore her gaze away from his eyes as the dream from last night flashed across her mind.

In her dream she was in a dark cell, shadows clinging to her small body. But she was not a her. She was a boy with wings and shadows, small and trapped in a dark cell with no windows or light. And somehow, even if she could not see the face of the boy whose body was hers, she knew, she felt it in her bones. She was Azriel. 

She had woken up at three in the morning and had been unable to go back to sleep. Rhysand had never told her Azriel’s story when he told her about him and Cassian in the war-camps all those centuries ago. All he had mentioned was Azriel was the bastard son of an Illyrian Lord and that he had two cruel brothers. 

Meridian pushed her dream away and forced herself to look at his hazel eyes. “See you in four weeks.”

Azriel nodded silently, then his lips parted but Meridian was already winnowing to the Spring Court. 

She winnowed straight to her bedroom and grumbled when she could because Tamlin still hadn't set up any wards around the manor. Dumping her suitcase in the bed, she hoped the ocean blue gown hadn't wrinkled and quickly pulled it out. She hung it in the armoire along with the new leathers she had brough and the ones she had left with—the apology gift from Tamlin. 

It was still early so she went about the room, opening the curtains and windows and looking for her dirty laundry. Her clothes were gone. She checked everyone in the room but there was no sign of them. For a moment she panicked, what if Tamlin had thrown out all her things and decided he didn’t want her in his court? But her stationary set was there on the desk and her shoes were all there as well. 

She left her room and descended the stairs. She found Nita in the kitchen, getting started with breakfast. 

“You’re back,” Nita smiled and seemed somewhat relieved. 

“I told you I would be back,” she said and leaned against the doorframe. “Where is Gretel?”

“She’s gone to hang your laundry to dry,” she informed her. 

“Oh, I was looking for it. I intended to wash it myself.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Nita, “Gretel wanted to do it. Her friend will be coming later today, the one she told you about.”

“That’s great,” she smiled gratefully. “Is Tamlin awake?”

“He hasn’t come down,” said Nita as she chopped fruit, “but he should be down any moment now.”

“How are the preparations for Summer Solstice going?” She asked, but what she really wanted to know is how Tamlin had behaved while she was gone. Unfortunately she could not ask that without sounding like she didn’t trust him. 

“Everything is well,” said Nita, “we’ve bought all we need and the High Lord said he would pay us a little more for all the food we will have to cook that day.”

“Tamlin must be very thankful for you,” she commented lightly, “you and Gretel are great cooks. I am passable but not that great and Tamlin—he did try but let’s just say he’s never met a spice.”

“What are you talking about?” Tamlin asked from behind her. 

Meridian acted a little surprised, like she hadn’t heard him coming down the stairs. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “I was telling Nita how bad we are at cooking.” 

“Your cooking wasn’t bad,” Tamlin said. “I enjoyed your meals.”

She smiled at him and saw Nita smile from the corner of her eye.  _ Good move _ , she mentally whispered. “We’ll leave you to it, Nita.”

Nita nodded, the smile still on her lips as she turned back to cooking. Tamlin and Meridian walked out of the manor. 

“Did you... rest?” Tamlin asked politely, but she could tell so easily that he had restrained himself from asking if she had enjoyed her time at the Night Court. 

“Yes,” she said simply. “Anything new here?”

Tamlin shook his head. “No disturbances at the borders.” 

They rode to the Summer Court guard’s makeshifts base where they met Vane for the morning checkup. Vane said it was good to see her back and told them that the guards were grateful for the celebration they were preparing for Summer Solstice. It was not going to be much, not compared to what they must do at the Summer Court. But Meridian had planned it so that it would send a message that Tamlin appreciated their help. The village would hear about it and it would help Tamlin’s image. 

After riding to check a few posts, Tamlin and Meridian went back to the manor for breakfast. Gretel was happy to see her as she served their breakfast. 

“The Summer Court—Tarqui—sent an invitation for us,” Tamlin said as they started eating. “He invited us for the Summer Solstice celebrations.”

“Did you accept?” She asked.

Tamlin sipped the freshly made juice, his shoulders a little tense. “I did not accept or decline. It is an open invitation. I haven’t decided.”

“Won’t you take me?” She reproached. “I would love to attend and see how the Summer Court celebrates. We wouldn’t have to stay all day since we need to be present here for the party we’re hosting, but I hear their celebrations do not end even after the sun goes down.”

Tamlin pursed his lips, unconvinced. 

“It would look bad if you don’t go,” she added. 

“Do you really want to go?” He grunted. “Or is it just your determination to make me act like a High Lord.”

She let out a sigh and picked at her fruit. “Both I suppose. It would remind the other High Lords that you are still alive, since you’ve been so isolated since the war. And, I would like to see how the Summer Court celebrates. Where I am from, we don’t celebrate the Summer Solstice.”

Tamlin was silent for a moment and then threw a question like he wasn’t curious about it, but he side-glanced as he asked. “Where are you from? You’ve never said, but I thought, perhaps, the Winter Court.”

Meridian rested her chin on her palm. “You never asked, I thought you weren’t interested. I am from Vallahan, but I came to fight the War to free the humans.” 

“You don’t have family to go back to?” Tamlin asked.

“No,” she stated plainly. “My family died when I was very young and I am estranged from the Lord that took me in. He didn’t want to fight for the humans and I did, so I left.” 

Tamlin said nothing. She knew that his father had fought against the humans during the War and he had been too young at the time. Before she started the job, Rhysand told her everything about Tamlin and Feyre told her story too. She knew that Tamlin had made a deal with Hybern to get Feyre back and in exchange he had given the king access to his land. He had stayed with Hybern but he had betrayed him and forced Beron to fight against Hybern. 

It was something they shared in common, it was Meridian who had convinced Beron to join the War. She had convinced him through words and hidden manipulation with a mask of flattery. Meridian’s training had allowed her to do cruel things to get the High Lord to join the war—the same training had allowed her to distance her emotions when she was working and her mask had protected her and kept her unfazed by her doings. 

She was glad their similarities ended there, she would be utterly disturbed otherwise. But she did not want to think about Tamlin’s wrongdoings and shortcomings right now when she had to smile pleasantly at him. She was trying to get his people to respect him and trust him, so she had to remember how he had betrayed his own people and put them at risk, but she had to detach herself from the feelings of fury that came with that reminder. 

“We could go,” Tamlin finally said, “if you wish to.”

Meridian showed him a pleased smile. “Gretel mentioned there are some females who make jewelry and set up a stand until noon, come with me to the Village? I need a pair of earrings for the party.”

  
  


It took a lot of convincing, but an hour later they were unmounting their horses to walk in the village. There were stares and whispers, some curious and some resentful. Tamlin had almost turned around and left, but Meridian grabbed his sleeve. “I didn’t bring any money, you’re buying.”

Tamlin grumbled and followed her through the stalls of his people trying to make a living in his fallen court. 

“Ah, that’s the one,” she pointed at a stall where three females sat with handmade jewelry displayed on a wooden table. 

The High Lord glanced over, and the females lowered their head in intimidation rather than respect.

“The dazzling smile, High Lord,” she reminded him.

Tamlin tried to relax his face but stood back as Meridian approached the stall. “Good morning,” she beamed.

The vendors muttered their response, intimidated by her companion but curious about her. Meridian kept her expression pleasant and approached as she glanced over the various pieces of jewelry. There were earrings and bracelets and necklaces and hair pins, all of various colors. 

Meridian hummed to herself as she picked up a out of dangling moonstone. “I’m wearing an ocean blue dress to the Summer Solstice party, what pair of earrings do you think would suit the dress best?”

The vendors blinked at her. The youngest looking one scrambled to her feet and started looking through their goods. She picked up a pair and held it up for Meridian to see. “This pair looks good with any color, but especially blue.”

It was another moonstone set, but the pair Meridian had looked at was very small. The pair the young female held had three dangling moonstones held together with delicate silver chains. “We also have it in gold chains,” said the vendor and put both pairs next to each other to the side. 

Another vendor pointed at a pair that was the same style but the beads were not moonstones, they looked like aquamarine pearls. The young vendor set them aside for her to see. The chain was gold and combined with the aquamarine pearls it instantly reminded Meridian of the beautiful dress she had tried when she went shopping with Mor and Feyre. 

“These are beautiful,” she whispered, “but I’m afraid the aquamarine wouldn’t match the blue of the dress.”

The other vendors started showing her different earrings in different shades of blue, but none quite matched the dress she had bought to wear. Meridian kept going back and forth between the moonstone and the aquamarine that matched the other dress. 

“Will you be attending the Summer Solstice celebration?” She spurred the question to the three females. 

They stared at her dumbfounded. “Us?” The younger one sputtered.

Meridian nodded at her, smiling. “You’re welcome to attend. It will be different from other years, it is to thank the Summer Court guards that are protecting the borders.”

“But—but we aren’t courtiers or High Fae for the matter, would we really be welcomed?” She stammered.

“Of course!” Meridian exclaimed. “Anyone from the village can attend. There will be food and music.”

The vendors shared shocked glances. Meridian grabbed the moonstone and the aquamarine earrings and waved at Tamlin to come forward. He hesitated for a moment but he started walking towards the stall. The whispering vendors that were still stunned by the invitation lowered their gazes as the High Lord approached. 

“Which pair?” She asked, holding up the earrings.

Tamlin blinked, Meridian arched her eyebrows at him and dangled the earrings in her hands. 

“My dress is ocean blue.”

“Both are pretty,” Tamlin offered, unhelpfully.

“I know that,” she sighed. She held up an earring from each pair to either ear. “This one is moonstone with silver chains, so they ought to look good with the dress. But this one is too pretty not to consider, even if it doesn’t match the blue of the dress.”

Tamlin glanced over at the three females, as if they would give him the answer. He scratched the back of his neck when they did not and took a step closer to look closer. 

“Uh,” the young female shyly said, “I think they both look pretty on her.”

Tamlin nodded. “They both look pretty on you,” he muttered, then turned to the young female. “We’ll take both.”

Meridian let out a little gasp. “You’re buying me both?”

The High Lord nodded. “You can choose which to wear when you try them on with the dress.”

The vendors looked slightly charmed as they slipped the two pairs of earrings in a small velvet bag. Meridian took the bag and Tamlin paid. 

“See you at Summer Solstice,” Meridian beamed at them before she and Tamlin walked away. She glanced at the High Lord and offered him a more subtle smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he brushed it off. “They were very cheap.”

She huffed. “Don’t say that. They are handmade so they’re one of a kind.”

“Do you need something else?” He asked, glancing over the other stalls.

Meridian hummed thoughtfully. “No, I have some hairpins and the dress doesn’t require a necklace.” 

“Then we can go back—“

“We have some time, Gretel said her friend would stop by just before lunch.” She spotted a stall selling fabrics, scarves and wraps and waist sashes. “What about you, do you need something to wear? Oh—“

She grabbed a tan waist sash embroidered with golden roses. Tamlin must have hundreds of formal clothes, made by the finest fabric. But the sash was hand embroidered by the plump pink skinned female that sat behind a grumpy looking male with rough skin. She had stopped in their stall before, when she was asking for anyone who would be willing to work at the manor. 

“This would look handsome on you,” she told Tamlin. 

Before the High Lord could reply, Meridian wrapped the fabric belt around his waist, humming to herself. “Yes, it looks good on you.”

Tamlin’s lips parted but he did not say anything, he merely blinked at her. She made a show of tying the sash and fixing it correctly, taking her time so all the curious eyes got to see. 

“Wear it for Summer Solstice,” she suggested. “I am sure you have clothes to match it with.”

Tamlin handed her the pouch of money and she smiled at him before strutting off to the vendors. It was the plumb female who took the money, the male at her side was gaping at the High Lord. The female gave her a paper bag in case she wanted to put it away. Meridian thanked her and returned to Tamlin who was already carefully untying it. He folded the fabric and put it in the bag. 

Meridian kept a soft smile showing as they walked back to their horses, satisfied with all the curious glances and whispers and with all the fae gathered around the jewelry stall where they must be advertising the Summer Solstice celebration.

It had all gone as planned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Sleep-deprived-Meridian and ready-to-train-Cassian = chaotic
> 
> Azriel = king of staying quiet
> 
> Meridian= queen of getting High Lords to do what she wants


	10. Summer Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armen takes a plus-one to the Summer Solstice party at the Summer Court.

It was the night before Summer Solstice, Meridian had made herself useful in the kitchen. Gretel, Nita, and Siana—Gretel’s friend, the new launderer and cleaning maid—showed her how to mix the batter for the small round cakes and how to whip the frosting while they mixed seasoning and bathed chunks of meat in the sauces. She was not a bad baker, according to Nita—at least not after the first batch, which had turned out crunchy from the egg shells that had somehow ended up in the batter. But she was good at learning from mistakes and following instructions. She had steady hands, so decorating hadn’t been too difficult once Nita showed her.

Tamlin was outside—with Herrin, the gardener, and Ren, the new gardener—helping with decorations that could be set up in advance. 

Meridian stretched her arms over her head after placing the last cake on the fine ceramic ray. Siana had finished what she was doing and carried a tray of small passion berry desserts that still needed decorating. Meridian watched her do the first and used it as a reference to help. 

“The dress you’re going to wear is truly beautiful,” said Siana. 

“You saw it?” Meridian perked.

The young fae nodded with a dreamy smile. “When I went to put away the clothes I washed today.” 

“What does it look like?” Gretel asked curiously.

“It’s sleeveless, a-line with aquamarine tulle layers at the bottom,” Siana described to Meridian’s growing confusion, “and gold patterns at the top—like golden stars exploding all the way to the knees, which is where the aquamarine tulle starts to lap down."

"It sounds very pretty," Nita agreed.

Siana nodded dreamily. "It looks like gentle waves under golden sun rays."

"Sounds like the perfect dress to go to the Summer Court with during Summer Solstice," Gretel added.

Meridian suppressed her confusion and curiosity under a nod and a smile, keeping her questions and theories under control as she continued to decorate the desserts with berries and powdered sugar.

It was not until Tamlin and the gardeners finished setting up outside, with the help of three Summer Court guards, that Nita insisted she went to sleep since the celebration started at sunrise. Tamlin retired to sleep as well, walking her to her bedroom and bidding her a good night before walking off to his room. 

Meridian closed the door of her bedroom and the first thing her gray eyes registered was the gold and aquamarine gown that lay on top of her bed. Had Feyre gone back to the store to get it for her? Had Morrigan? Or had they guilted Rhysand into gifting it to her? 

There was a blue velvet box sitting on the bed next to the dress, tied neatly with a white ribbon. Meridian pulled at the ribbon and removed the lid, low heeled gold shoes sat inside with a small note folded in half. Meridian opened the note and read the delicate letters.

_ I am sorry. _

It was not signed and there were no other notes inside. The handwriting was not Rhysand’s, but she still wanted to confirm it. She went to the desk and flipped through a brown leather journal. There, tucked inside, a blank half piece of paper was hidden. 

She grabbed a pen and neatly wrote.

_ Did you buy me a dress? _

She stared at the paper, for a minute, for two, and it disappeared. The reply took another two.

_ No, I intended to. Feyre told me about a dress. Unfortunately, it slipped my mind and when I went to buy the lovely dress for you, it was gone. Unfortunate, isn’t it? I shall buy you hundreds of them when you come back. _

Bastard, she could hear his tone through the writing.

If it hadn’t been Feyre or Rhysand, then it must have been Mor. The piece of paper cleared when she did not reply. She tucked it back inside the journal and went back to the dress. 

Meridian picked up the gown and held it up against the moonlight streaming from her window. She realized then that the cut was different. While the front was still a deep V, the back had been fixed to her liking. The material was the same gold stars, freckled embroidery from the body of the dress, no one would be able to tell that the original design had an open back. 

She hung the dress in the armoire and placed the shoes on the low table. She would tell Armen to give her thanks to Mor if she saw her at the Summer Court. The white haired female slipped out of her clothes and took a quick bath before going to bed. 

As she settled down, she caught sight of the note that came with the shoes.

_ I am sorry. _

Meridian frowned, closing her hand around the paper. It did not make sense for Mor to write that in the note, she had nothing to apologize for. The only explanation was that Mor or Feyre had gotten the dress and had written the note in Rhysand’s behalf. But she doubted they would do something like that. 

She decided to worry about it later and tired to sleep since she had to get up way too early the following day. Sleep came easily as if the dreams were calling for her and lulling her.

Meridian was in the cell again, she was a small boy with wings and hazel eyes, locked away in the darkness of a cell, surrounded by shows. She stayed there—in the dream—remained in the cell with his wings tucked in until there was a knock on the door for her to wake up. 

Siana assisted her with her hair and make up. Meridian had pulled out a box of hairpins, clips, combs, and makeup that Mor had insisted she took when she first came to the Summer Court in case she needed it. She knew there were some golden pins there that she could use, but Siana’s good eye had found a pair of hairpins with golden suns. 

She made a small braided crown around her head and left the rest curled over her shoulders and back, with the gold pins inserted at the back. Meridian had cleared her mind while Siana worked on her, it was something she had always found relaxing in the occasions when she attended balls or parties back in Vallahan. When the maids would tend to her hair and gently brushed her eyes and cheeks with color, it allowed her to relax. 

Siana had wetted the brush when she applied the gold shimmer and then she darkened her eyelashes and applied a neutral color to her lips. She had not done much but Meridian stared at herself in the mirror in admiration. The gold was a metallic brushstroke that went from the corner of her eye to the end of her eyelid. It was bold yet simple. The white of her hair and eyebrows made the gold call out for attention. 

She helped her with the dress too and Meridian felt her go rigid for a second when she saw her scars but she quickly recovered and did not mention her ruined skin. 

Meridian thanked her as she left her room to go help Nita and Gretel. The earrings were perfectly matched to the dress and the shoes were not not too uncomfortable. 

She left her room and found Tamlin about to descend the stairs and immediately halted. Tamlin wore a teal doublet with the gold embroidered sash tied at the waist. His shade of blue was a little darker but they still matched.

“Ah,” Tamlin paused, taking her in. “I suppose this is why the new girl insisted I wore this color.”

Meridian approached him, forcing a smile that looked very convincing. “It appears Siana is not as shy as Gretel and Nita.”

They started down the stairs and Meridian suppressed the urge to push him down in hopes his clothes would tear and he’d be forced to change. She waved the thought aside as they reached the last step and Tamlin glanced over at her.

“You look...good.”

How very charming. 

“Thank you,” she smiled faintly. 

Everything was set up just next to the manor, the reviving garden was decorated with ribbons and curtains of sheer gold. There were wooden poles marking the place, with gold fabric hanging between poles and the entrance was a wooden arch with vines and yellow roses intertwining around it. Vane and Unan—the night shift guard in charge—were standing by the arched entrance. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, Meridian,” Vane complimented. 

Unan nodded in agreement. “You rival the sun.”

The blush was not fake, she felt her cheeks warm slightly. “If you both compliment me I won’t know who to dance with first.”

The two guards shared a look as if she had just posed a challenge. Meridian glanced around and found Nita Gretel and Siana in pretty dresses. They were invited to attend, the food was set in long tables for self-serving and glasses of sparkling wine had been placed in the tall, round tables that had been set at the sides. There were two females and one male whispering with Siana and Nita and Gretel also seemed to have invited guests. There were about ten guards, the posts had been stretched farther apart so that they could take turns attending. 

Herrin, the gardener, brought his wife and brother as he said he would. The new young gardener seemed to have brought his lover who seemed much taller than him. 

Everyone grabbed wine glasses and watched as the sun rose through the green heels, greeting them with a golden glow that ripped through the sky painting it in hues of orange and gold. It rose slowly until only the bottom scraped the hills. They held their breath as the sun parted from the ground and rose into the sky. The Summer Court guards cheered loudly and the rest followed. Wine glasses were raised in a second cheer and then drank in a third.

The melody of a violin ripped through the air and the celebration began. Meridian immediately gravitated towards the food. She piled her plate with fruits and cheese and bite size cuts of meat. Tamlin was behind her and they found a table to sit down and eat. 

It was half an hour later when Meridian spotted the jewelry vendors and other four villagers behind them. She smiled to herself and went to welcome them. Vane asked her to dance and she accepted. They were dancing when a few High Fae arrived and went to speak to Tamlin. The High Lord looked surprised to see them and exchanged brief words with them. 

The grumpy man and the pink skinned female arrived later, with a few more villagers. The villagers were a little tight and uncertain at first but they eventually warmed up and joined in the dance floor. High Fae females showed up at noon when she was dancing with Unan and the other guards wasted no time in asking them for a dance. 

The violin was joined by other instruments as the day progressed and villagers let go of their resentment towards their High Lord for the sake of dancing and laughing and enjoying the Summer Solstice. Meridian made her way to Tamlin with two plates of desserts after a High Fae male finished up a conversation with him and went to join the dance. 

She handed him the plate and he took it. “I made these,” she pointed at the small round cakes she had made.

Tamlin gave her an amused look and dug his spoon in. “It’s good, you aren’t a bad cook at all.”

Meridian huffed. “Cooking is different from baking. I just followed directions.”

Tamlin’s lips twitched a little, but then his eyes drifted to the dance floor. “The High Fae just now—his name is Amir—he wants to become a sentinel.”

Meridian faked a look of pleased surprise, like she hadn’t overheard the conversation. “That’s great.” 

“He said his cousin couldn’t attend today, but he also wants to protect the borders.” 

“What did you tell him?”

“To come see the day after tomorrow,” he replied. He was looking at her like he was awaiting approval or confirmation that he had done well.

“We’ll have to train them,” she said, “see how well they hold in a fight and train every morning.”

Tamlin nodded. Meridian noted the many curious glances from the villagers and High Fae that must have been courtiers before the court fell. The High Lord had stood at the side, watching everyone but not joining.

“Well, are you going to ask me to dance soon or will I have to let Vane or Unan take their turn for the fifth time?”

Tamlin looked stunned as he set down his plate. “I didn’t know you wanted to dance with me.”

She didn’t particularly want to; she definitely did not want to dance with Tamlin. Not when he had almost smiled earlier. It had been a slight twitch of lips, but Meridian still felt a little disturbed when she remembered how he had ruined his own court and had caused so much pain for Feyre. 

“Our colors match so well,” she said, suppressing her dislike with a smile, “we should at least dance once.”

Tamlin held out his hands and she took it, pushing all her feelings aside and smiling pleasantly as he guided her towards the dance floor. 

….

The small party they had hosted was nothing compared to the Summers Court’s celebration. Unan had left for the Summer Court with a few guards and returned to the Spring Court an hour before sundown. Vane and a few guards left for the Summer Court and Tamil and Meridian left with them. 

The air was a fresh ocean breeze, carrying lovely music and sounds of chatter and laughter. The decorations were blue and gold, silks and sheer fabrics dancing in the air with the soft ocean breeze. The sky was painted red and orange and gold, with dark blue hues nearing slowly. 

Vane handed her a tall glass of sparkling wine and they walked around the dancing bodies, turning down those who reached for her hand and asked her to join. The head guard brought them to his High Lord, bowing before him as he gestured to them.

Tarquin was very handsome, his skin dark, hair white and long, eyes the color of blue crystal water. He wore turquoise blue with gold accents, and the colors were made for him. Tamlin and Tarquin exchanged greetings and then his crystal blue eyes turned to her and he smiled. 

He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, just over her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Meridian smiled genuinely. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Tarquin let go of her hand gently and gestured to the attractive woman standing at his side. She held a glass of wine, lips brushing the rim as her brown eyes inspected her. “This is Cresseida, Princess of Adriata, and my cousin.”

They regarded each other politely and Cresseida turned her gaze to Tamlin, her face revealing nothing but her eyes full of judgement. 

“I am afraid I have lost sight of Varian,” Tarquin gestured towards the crowd. “Would you like to sit?”

They sat at the table behind them and conversation with Tarquin came easy. They talked about the borders and how his guards were thankful for the Summer Solstice celebration they had hosted for them. He was very pleasant and told her about how Vane and Unan talked very highly of her. 

Then it was sundown and everyone stood with sparkling wine in their hands, watching as the sun dipped into the ocean. They did not mourn its departure, but rather thanked the sun for the long day it had provided filled with light and abundance. The sun was gone but the celebrations did not end. Cresseida joined the dancing bodies and Vane asked Meridian for a dance as well. 

When the song ended, another High Fae male cut in, grinning widely as he held a hand to the low of back and complimented her looks. He was handsome and the one after him was beautiful and her back tensed when she spotted the one waiting for the song to end so he could cut it. His lips were curled in a smirk and his eyes were predatory.

But as the song came to an end Tamlin beat him to her first. A new song began and Tamlin spread his hand over her lower back as they danced. He was looking at her in amusement. “There was a long line,” he commented, “you didn’t seem to appreciate it.”

Meridian sighed. “Thank you, I was already thinking of how to excuse myself.”

“That one who wanted to dance next looked like he wanted to take you to bed rather than have a dance,” Tamlin grunted. 

Meridian huffed a laugh. “He would have been terribly disappointed even if he had taken me to bed.” 

Tamlin arched his eyebrows at her. “Why is that?”

The song ended and another began and they continued to dance. “Don’t you remember my back?”

Tamlin’s fingers twitched against the low of her back. 

“Males don’t find that very attractive,” she shrugged.

“Has it not healed?” He frowned.

“It did,” she informed him, “a healer took the rest of the splinters out, but the scars aren’t pretty.”

The High Lord went silent and their second song was coming to an end. She was going to suggest they get a drink but a hand pressed at her shoulders and a dark skinned male with white hair smirked at her. 

“Tarquin told me you two were here,” Prince Varian said. 

He regarded Tamlin in a polite manner and then turned to her. “Would you grant me a dance?”

“Of course,” she took his hand. 

She had briefly met him before at the Night Court, but they hadn’t had much time to hold a conversation because he and Armen were always going off to her apartment. He walked her deeper into the dance floor, away from Tamlin. Meridian saw a female with curly blond hair approaching the High Lord. 

The female must have asked him to dance and Tamlin hesitated for a moment but ended up offering his hand to her.

In the pretense of dancing, Varian was pulling her away until she couldn’t see Tamlin and he couldn’t see her. Meridian looked at Varian expectantly. “Where is Armen?”

“She is very annoyed with  _ him _ ,” he laughed, “so she asked me to do something before she throttled him.”

Meridian’s confusion showed on her face but Varian only laughed in response as they reached the other end of the dance floor, where Tamlin would not even get a glimpse of her. The prince let go of her and slipped through the crowd. 

Azriel emerged from shadows of darkness, wearing all black with accents of blue, his sculpted face hard as stone and his lips pressed in a tight line. He looked like a prince of smoke and shadows. He grabbed her as a different song began, pressing her body closer to his than what it was necessary. He breathed in and the shadows that clung to him relaxed. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she said and cursed when her voice sounded so breathless. 

“Armen extended the invitation,” he said, his breath brushing over her ear as he spoke. 

Meridian managed to compose herself in time to respond. “Was it to spite Cassian and Mor?” She huffed.

“Maybe,” his lips brushed the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “You look beautiful—like the sun gracing the lapping in waves in the ocean.”

“Thank you,” she said, her fingers twitching at his shoulders. His words resonating inside her chest. “How did this dress and shoes get to my bedroom in the Spring Court?”

“I—it was a gift...from me.”

Meridian felt a fluttering in her chest, but her mind supplied her with the message on the note. “What are you sorry for?”

She felt his shoulders tense and the fingers spread over her back twitch. The shadowsinger sighed. “For my behavior—when we first met, I ignored you instead of handing it.”

Shadows curled at her fingers, where they laid on his shoulders, but they did not whisper to her. “I was not in a place to acknowledge it either,” she said.

“I know, but I should have spoken to you more instead of avoiding you,” his voice was tight. 

"Is that why you're here?" She asked, lifting her arms so she could wrap them around his neck as another song played. 

Azriel's shoulders relaxed and his hazel eyes stared down at her. "Yes, persuading Armen to let me come along was not very cheap."

Meridian laughed. Azriel smiled, his fingers pushing her hair back over her shoulder. A mist of shadows caressed her cheek and when she reached to touch them they did not back away. A faint blush spread over Azriel's ears but his faintfull shadows covered the reddening skin quickly.

Her heart swelled and Meridian ignored the warnings in her mind about how quickly she was warming up to the shadowsinger. She blocked out all the reasons why it was a bad idea to get close to him and lower her shields around him. Meridian blocked it all out because Azriel had smiled softly at her and she felt comfortable and at ease, she didn’t want her thoughts to ruin it.

They danced in the shadows, her arms around his neck and his fingers stretched over the low of her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did Azriel know about the dress?   
> He might or might not have followed them when they went shopping 🤷♀️ And yes Rhysand knows it was Azriel who bought it.
> 
> Armen: why should I take you to the Summer Solstice party?  
> Azriel: it will piss off Cassian if you take me and not him... and there was this expensive necklace I saw...  
> Armen: I’m listening


	11. Nightmares Come Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian is plagued by nightmares of rejection. Naga attack the borders.

_She was not Azriel this time, she was herself._ _Meridian lay in the cold stone floor of a cell, it was dark and there were no windows but there were faelights illuminating enough for her to make up the bars of her cell. There was darkness and shadows all around the room, but it was utterly silent. Meridian whispered to the shadows, desperate for the darkness to answer back, but they offered no whispers, no sounds, no help or comfort._

_ In the corner of the room, the shadows and darkness were a round mass. Shadows lingered there and Meridian strained her eyes to see the mass of darkness take shape. His hazel eyes glowed in the pit of darkness and shadows and smoke.  _

_ Meridian dragged herself to the bars of the cell, reaching her arm out through the gaps, desperately calling the shadows and Azriel. The shadowsinger stared at her and backed away from her hand and the darkness retracted with him. She cried out to him desperately but Azriel blended into the shadows and disappeared with a look of disgust lingering on his face. _

She woke up panting and covered in sweat, her throat hoarse which meant she had been screaming. Tearing off the covers she padded her way to the window. It was dark, sunrise wouldn’t be for another two or three hours. Meridian knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so she stripped off her nightclothes and traded them for leathers. She was out of her room and the manor in less than five minutes and made her way to the clear spot where she trained with Tamlin—and now trained the two males that wanted to become sentinels. 

It was dark but she didn’t bother with faelights, she warmed up and started training by herself. Her short blades cut through the air as she slashed through her feelings of despair. It had been a week since the Summer Solstice celebration where she had seen Azriel and the dreams of that windowless cell haunted her every night. This dream had been different. It had not been the same cell, it was her cell in Hybern.

She spun on her feet in fury and cut the air with her blades. While awake, it was easier to control her mind and lock away the things she did not want to remember. In her sleep, she kept the fortress around her mind impenetrable to intruders but it was difficult to hold her memories from slipping into her dreams. 

“What are you doing?” Tamlin approached her. 

She had distantly been aware of his presence and she had hoped he would go back inside the manor when he had just stood in the distance for minutes, but it seemed like he had decided to stay. 

“Training,” she grunted. 

“Sunrise won’t be for another hour,” he said.

Meridian resisted the urge to throw her blade at him. He must have heard her scream if her throat was so hoarse, and it was not the first night she woke up screaming. He had to know why she was awake and he chose to ignore it, but what could she expect from him? He had claimed to love Feyre so strongly, yet when she had needed him the most he had ignored her nightmares and thinning body. He had locked her up, suffocating her when she was already drowning in despair and crumbling emotionally. 

When Meridan didn’t answer, Tamlin spoke again. "I couldn't sleep, mind if I join?" 

She was going to give him a reply, let him join in because she couldn’t tell him what she was really thinking:  _ yes, how about target practice where you’re the target? _

But before she could reply, a light shot up into the sky and exploded into a beam of sunlight in the dark canvas of the dark blue sky. Tamlin and Meridian shared a look and she instantly grabbed his hand and winnowed in the direction the beam had come from. It was a warning call from the Summer Court guards. 

Meridian and Tamiln found themselves in the forest, close to the border of the Autumn Court, screams of pain ripped through the air from two different directions. Tamlin had no weapons but he let the beast inside him come out, claws sharp as the small daggers attached to her belt. The High Lord ran in one direction and Meridian in another. She could see alright in the dark, not the same way she used to see when she was a shadowsinger and she could see things in the shadows that others couldn’t, but she could run through a dark forest without slamming into trees or tripping over roots. 

The shadows and darkness did not whisper to her the right way, they stayed silent and uninterested in her. She saw the two pairs of amber eyes first, glowing in the darkness, their humanoid bodies curling over a fallen guard that was keeping them away with the curved slashes of his sword. Meridian grabbed a small dagger from her belt and threw it with steady aim. The naga shierked and drew back. The other naga lunged forward, its scaly arms and talons reaching for her. Meridian sliced her short sword through the air, cutting through its scaly arm. 

The naga roared as its arm fell to the ground and it tried to slash at her with its other talon but Meridian was already stabbing her short sword through its chest.

She twisted the blade and pulled it out, the naga falling limp to the ground. Meridian did not waste time glancing down at it, she was already sprinting to the other one that had been pinned to a three with another blade the guard must have thrown at it, but it was still alive and trying to break free. She slit its throat just as the blade pinning it to the tree clattered to the ground.

“Behind you!” The guard shouted just as Meridian was yanked back and dragged through the ground.

Two naga held her from her arms and hair as if she was their new doll to torture while one advanced onto the guard and another trailed behind her dragging body. She heard the guard shout after her until she couldn’t hear him anymore. Meridian tried to swing her sword back but it was knocked out her hand and a talon curled around her shoulder, piercing the skin. Her knee hit a rock on the ground, sending bolts of pain. She ignored the physical pain, her mind whirling. 

She felt one of the naga’s grip loosen and she dug her feet into the ground, yanking her arm back with all her strength. One lost their grip on her as they stumbled and she grabbed the remaining short sword from her belt and stabbed into the other’s head. The naga that had been trailing behind dug its talon into her already injured shoulder. 

Meridian didn’t know why she didn’t reach for the small hand dagger still buckled in her belt. She simply grabbed the naga’s scaly wrist, fury burning bright inside her. There were no blue flames coming from her palm, the naga lifted it’s other talon hand to rip her face off as the other came forward to help rip her apart.

But the talon on her shoulder vanished into ash and the arm followed. The naga shrieked in shock as it’s dark serpentine body disappeared and soon there was nothing where it stood but falling ash. 

“What are you?” The remaining naga hissed as it backed away. 

The naga backed into a tree as it stared at her as if it was looking at something more monstrous than itself. Meridian caught sight of the bright orange leaf that fell from the creature’s robes, glistening with the first rays of sunlight. 

“You came from the Autumn Court,” Meridian noted. “How strange that you weren’t caught and slaughtered.”

The naga curled its lips. “What magics do you possess? You smell like old wicked magic.”

Meridian walked over to the dead naga and ripped her short sword out. As expected, the remaining naga tried to make a run for it but Meridian flickered a spark of flames and it caught fire as if it had been bathed in oil. 

The white haired female sheathed her short blade and winnowed right to the border between the Spring Court and the Autumn Court. Her palm pulsed. She raised her arms, palms facing towards the Autumn Court and felt a pulse through her entire body as a blue shield came to life, separating the courts by a ward of blue magic. She dropped her arms but the shield held. 

She walked back, past the burning corpse of a naga, the caved skull of another, and a pile of ash she stepped on. She made her way back to the guard, stopping to grab the short sword she had dropped before continuing her way. 

Tamlin and Unan found her before she reached the spot where she had left the guard. Tamlin was no longer in his beast form, but his hands were bloody from killing those serpentine creatures. 

“You’re hurt,” Unan pointed out her limp. 

“I’m fine,” she waved it off. 

Her knee hurt and her shoulder was burning and blood was soaking under her leathers but her mind was whispering her theories. 

“Kian said three dragged you away,” said Unan. “Did they escape?”

“They’re dead,” she stated. “How is Kian?”

They had reached the stop where she had left him but he was gone while other two guards stood watching the dead naga. 

“He’s been taken to the Summer Court, him and the other two injured,” Unan reported.

A hand pressed against her injured shoulder, drawing out a yelp from her. She whirled around and glared at Tamlin. “You need a healer too.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

Tamlin and Unan had a few scratches of their own. The High Lord was going to say something else but she didn’t give him time. She walked over to the naga she had stabbed in the chest and crouched down, giving in to the whispers of her mind. 

Meridian pressed her right palm over the fatal would, letting her palm soak with blood. She stood, feeling the cool blood dripping through her fingers. The guards grimaced. The blood glowed in her palm and then turned into steam as it disappeared, only a drop remained in the center of the blue circle in her palm.

The disgusted guards gaped, Tamlin and Unan stepped forward. It was the High Lord who spoke. “What is it?” 

The dot of blood turned into a fine line pointed behind her, she turned around slowly and the line of blood turned with her slowly, the needle of a compass. 

“How many naga were there?” She asked.

“Kian said there had been six here, we dealt with five, there were another two caught sneaking towards the manor,” Unan reported, “so that makes it thirteen. We got guards sweeping through the woods to make sure there aren’t more.”

“They came from the Autumn Court,” Meridian stated, still looking down at the needle made of blood. 

Unan took a closer look at her palm. “What is that?”

Tamlin grabbed her wrist and the needle shifted in her palm so it was still painting towards the Autumn Court. “Is it some sort of tracking spell?”

Meridian nodded. “It’s tracking where the naga came from. Like backtracking it’s steps.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time the naga or worst creatures sneak from a court to another,” said Tamlin, but he looked uncertain as if he was considering the situation.

“But not this many,” Meridian said flatly. “How did thirteen naga simply pass through the Autumn Court and reached the border undetected?

Unan grunted. “That many naga traveling together,” he shook his head, “they must have been sighted.”

Tamlin looked like he was going to run a hand through his hair but he looked at the dry blood around his nails and between his fingers and dropped them at his side. He glanced over towards the Autumn Court. “They knew and they let them pass.”

Meridian nodded her head, relieved that he had been the one to say it without too much coaxing. “We should pay them a friendly visit.” Unan and Tamlin arched their eyebrows at her. She continued, pointing her chin at the blond male. “To make sure they weren’t attacked too. They must have several injured if they failed to kill the naga before they reached the border.”

Unan grunted, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I would pay to see their faces and hear the excuses they will come up with.”

Tamlin considered and Vane joined them, asking for the details and telling Unan that the injured guards were doing well. 

“You should go clean that up,” Unan told her. 

Meridian was going to brush it off but Tamlin excused them both while Unan reported the attack to Vane. The High Lord escorted her back to the manor without room for protests. He did not speak until they were inside. The maids wouldn’t arrive for another hour, Rosehall was utterly silent as he closed the door behind them.

“I set up a ward against the border,” she informed him, “in case there were more naga trying to cross over.”

Tamlin watched her closely. “I didn’t know you were so fluent in spells.”

Meridian shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

He looked like he wanted to inquire more, but instead he asked. “Would it really be a good idea to go to the Autumn Court?”

Meridian leaned against the wall to take some weight off her knee. “I don’t have to tell you what this looks like, but I will—in case you’re uncertain.”

Tamlin pursed his lips but the white haired female continued.

“The naga coming through the border,” she stared, “it seems like a test. Beron is testing your borders and  _ you _ .”

Tamlin clenched his jaw.

“You have distanced yourself from the other Courts and of your own court as a High Lord,” she paused, stretching her leg. “He must have heard about the Summer Solstice celebration and he must be wondering if his chance to cross through your borders is slipping through his fingers before he can make a move. I think you should go, show them that you are still a High Lord and that you  _ are _ watching your borders. But that is just my opinion, you give the orders.”

Meridian could sense the anger and power circulating through Tamlin, shoulders tensing and relaxing and tensing again as he tried to get a grip of himself. “The naga came close enough to the end of the night shift to expect the guards to be tired, but not close enough for the next shift of guards to arrive in time to support.”

The white haired nodded her head along, glad that Tamlin was pointing it out himself.

“We leave in two hours,” Tamlin decided, eyeing her injuries. “Get cleaned up. We go when Amir and Orson arrive so they can guard the manor.”

Meridian simply nodded, like a loyal sentinel accepting the order of her High Lord without a silver of protest. It was what Tamlin needed at the moment. He needed to feel in charge, like going to the Autumn Court had been all his decision. 

She pushed herself off the wall and made for the stairs, but Tamlin swept her off her feet and carried her up. The female suppressed the shudder of disgust as his sweat and scent wrapped around her. His scent was of crisp rain, which she wouldn’t have mind if it wasn’t coming from him. 

“I can walk fine,” she commented as he ascended the steps.

“If you’re going, you need to be walking normally,” Tamlin grunted. 

“I know that,” she replied, amused at how well he was acting like a High Lord. 

He lowered her feet to the ground as they reached her door. Tamlin walked off to his own bedroom and Meridian quickly closed her door. Her limp was already getting better, the injury at her knee must have simply stressed a nerve. She crossed the room and sat down at her desk, quickly opening her journal and grabbing the paper she used to communicate with Rhysand.

Grabbing a pen, she wrote the message short and straight to the point.

_ Thirteen naga came through Autumn Court border. Too many to be a simple coincidence. Seems like Beron is testing Tamlin’s borders. Tamlin and I are paying a friendly visit to the Autumn Court.  _

The paper did not disappear immediately; it took a few minutes before it vanished from the desk. Meridian undid the laces of her boots and kicked them off as she waited for a response, squirming as she started feeling the blood under her leathers now that the adrenaline was gone and she was sitting still. 

The paper reappeared on the desk.

_ Seeing you will be a shock to Beron, but it might be the right move—a silent message. I know you’ll turn this incident into a card in your favor. _

_ Are you injured?  _

Meridian wrote her reply quickly.

_ It will send the right message indeed—a warning. It is too early to say, but it seems to have made Tamlin wake up. He’s thinking like a High Lord.  _

_ I’m fine. Three Summer Court guards were injured but Vane said they’re doing fine. _

The next response came faster than the last.

_ I told him you’re fine, he still wants to check on you. _

Her heart leaped inside her chest, dropping the pen, she quickly tucked the note away in her journal and hurried to the armoire to look for clean leathers. She threw them on the bed and remembered the unlocked door. Locking it quickly, she started unbuckling her weapons belt, placing her blades on the low table as they needed to be cleaned. 

The bathroom door was ajar, and she did not need to look at the shadows gathered there to know he had arrived. Azriel silently pulled the rest of the door open and walked towards her with silent steps and wide hazel eyes. He took her in, eyes trailing from head to toe, his jaw clenching as he eyed the blood sweeping from her shoulder and the rip at her knee.

“You said you weren’t injured,” his voice smooth but dark like the shadows lingering at his shoulders.

“I said I was fine,” she corrected him. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair and clear frustration. “I’ll take you to the Night Court to see the healer.”

Meridian shook her head. “Two hours won’t be enough, Madja is one busy healer.”

“It’s early,” he insisted, “she might be free.”

Meridian shook her head. “I can’t risk Tamlin coming in and finding me gone.”

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows curling over her body, hovering over her injuries. His scarred hand touched her shoulder gently and then his fingers trailed from the collar down to her chest. Meridian suppressed a shiver. The shadowsinger started unbuckling the jacket of her leather gear and once he reached the bottom he pushed it off her shoulders gently. 

The shirt she wore under was a white strap shirt that didn’t even cover her belly button and now half of it was stained with blood. Meridian held her breath and Azriel touched the bare skin, fingers trailing from her bruised collarbone to the wound on her shoulder where the talons had pierced the skin. His touch was gentle and his eyes burned alive like swirling honey, his shadows spreading behind his wings. Meridian let a pulse of her power wrap around the room, warding out any noise, scent, or shadows from escaping the room. 

“Let’s get your cleaned up,” he said, as if he would be participating in the washing. “You smell like  _ him _ and we have to treat this.”

Meridian snapped out her trance at that and arched her eyebrows at him. “I will be taking a bath,  _ alone _ .”

Azriel blinked, catching her words and reevaluating his own. His shadows curled around his ears and cheeks to hide his blush. “Right, I will wait here.” 

Feeling self conscious of her scars, Meridian assessed her retreat to the bathroom. She cleared her throat and made an excuse. “Turn around…I—I need to look for my underthings.”

Azriel eyes widened comically and he turned his back to her quickly, more shadows gathering at his ears. Meridian’s lips twitched and she did look for her underlings and another shirt that covered her back better. She locked the door of the bathroom behind her and undressed while the tub filled. The injuries were nothing, the pain she had felt at her knee already fading into a small discomfort and her limp was gone. 

The wound at her shoulder was deep, but it was not bleeding. There had been more scratches at her arms where they had dragged her from, but there were simple red marks under dried blood, the superficial scratches already healing. She had received injuries ten times worse in the war and had still put on her armor and fought another battle. 

Meridian scrubbed all the dirt and dried blood from her body and hair and then soaked in bath salts for five minutes. She dressed in her underthings and the plain black shirt. Wrapping a robe around her, she poked her head out and saw Azriel standing right where she had left him—it made her smile. The shadowsinger turned and walked over to her quickly.

“Let me see—“

“I can do it myself,” she said, “it really isn’t bad.”

“You won’t be able to treat the back,” he countered, a bad excuse.

She arched her brows at him in amusement. “I have flexible arms, I can reach the back of my shoulder just fine.”Azriel made a noise of frustration and Meridian couldn’t suppress her grin. “Fine, you do it.

Letting the door open wider she walked over to the sink and pulled the wooden box she kept under. It was filled with bandages, ointments and powders. Azriel took it from her and went through the bottles and vials. 

Meridian sat down at the edge of the bathtub and loosened her robe, letting it fall open and slip down her shoulders. Azriel turned back to her, holding a powder and an ointment on his scarred hands. His eyes started to slip down her legs but he swallowed and quickly averted his gaze. He crouched at her side, his throat bobbing as he kept his hazel eyes on her shoulder. 

He dropped a pinch of the bone colored powder at the front and back of the wound, Meridian did not react to the sting. The shadowsinger then dipped his fingers in the ointment and gently applied it over the wound, packing the power inside and at last, he taped a bandage over it.

Azriel set the powder and ointment next to her and let his eyes wander down her thigh to her knee. “Does your knee hurt?”

She shook her head. The shadowsinger still lifted her leg, a hand under her knee. It was a simple touch but the grip of his fingers sent a wave of heat to her core and a blush to her chest. 

“Are you sure?” His voice was smooth as his thumb pressed over her knee. His hazel eyes trailed from her knee to her thighs and her body, settling on her gray eyes at last. 

“It was nothing,” she swallowed, “it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

She squeezed her thighs together and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him. His fingers brushed from her knee to her thigh. “You warded the room,” he said, his voice deeper and edging a hungry growl. “Tamlin can’t hear anything coming from this room?”

Meridian shuddered. “No, he can’t. It’s a new trick I discovered today.” She lifted her marked palm.

Azriel grabbed it with his right hand, still sticky from the ointment and Meridian missed the touch of his hand on her thigh but he placed his other hand over her left thigh as if reading her mind. He was kneeling now, not crouching, but his body was flushed against her closed legs. She parted them slightly and she felt the brush of his hardness against her leg. It sent a pulse of heat to her core and the shadowsinger’s grip on her thigh pushed her legs apart with a low growl.

Meridian’s pulse quickened as he fitted himself between her legs and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. He was so close she was certain he could hear her skipping heartbeat. “Did he help you up the stairs?”

It took her a few blinks to realize she was talking about Tamlin and she remembered how he had said she smelled like him earlier. “He tries to act nice sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t let him get too close,” Azriel warned, a finger trailing down her neck. 

Meridian wanted to wrap her legs around the spymaster and feel his hardness against her. But she waited. She wanted him to touch her more, to grip her thighs with his scarred hands and kiss her. 

Azriel was still holding her blue marked palm with one hand so she lifted the other to touch his cheek. His hazel eyes fluttered close. Meridian caressed his elegant features, his jaw, his cheekbone, his brow, his nose, and his lips. He shivered under her touch and his lips parted, but as quickly as the emotion came it halted. 

The shadowsinger pulled away from her, eyes wide and jaw tight as if he had just woken up from a spell she had casted in him. His wings tucked tightly behind his back and he looked at her and his eyes were cold. 

“Rhysand said you’re going to the Autumn Court,” his voice was cold, indifferent, and business-like. “He says you have handled Beron before—you were the one that made him join the War. But you should watch out for his sons, they’re all as cruel as he is—perhaps worse.”

Meridian locked away her anger and made her face a mask of indifference, stone harder than his cold icy features. “I can handle myself. You should go, the maids should be arriving soon they’ll likely come check on me.” 

She stood up from the edge of the bath and walked out to the room. Azriel stood in the doorway, a mass of shadows. He stood there, watching her slip her legs into the clean leathers and drop the robe to shrug on the jacket. She felt him leave as she busied herself with the jacket buckles. She waited an extra minute before she let the tears drop. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Rhysand: “oh no, the naga attacked the Spring Court borders”  
> Azriel: “is meridian okay???”  
> Rhysand: “she said she’s fine but when we were in the war she would get stabbed and say the same thing so...” ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌   
> Azriel: “I need to see her”  
> Azriel: *sees her*  
> Azriel: *enjoys seeing her too much*  
> Azriel: *panics*  
> Azriel: ok I gotta act normal. “Anyways, be careful at the Autumn Court.“  
> Meridian: (¬_¬)  
> Rhysand: (ノ-_-)ノ~┻━┻


	12. Old Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian and Tamlin go to the Autumn Court. She receives a nightly visit.

Beron sat in a throne chair made of carved maple, it was a work of art, with maple leaves carved along the edges of wood and an entire forest carved at the high backrest. The entire room was made of carved wood, with tapestries of beautiful Autumn forests and burning bone fires. The colors inside were warm browns, bright oranges, and burning reds. The inside of the Forest House was beautiful, a reflection of the stunning forest that surrounded his lands. Next to the throne chair stood a beautiful female with auburn hair and russet eyes, the Lady of the Court. Besides her stood one of their sons—Eris, who had escorted them to the house—and on the other side stood the other three. 

Meridian stood next to Tamlin, her gray eyes watching Eris and then Beron. It had taken her every ounce of her self control and training not to rip him to shreds the moment she saw Eris—the bastard who had caused Mor so much pain. 

Eris face was hard but indifferent as he noted her stare, but his brothers were watching her like wolves after a prey. Tamlin and her were impeccable, not a speck of dirt or sign of a bruise. Meridian’s white hair was loose, the waves lapping over her shoulders. Tamlin was dressed in his usual warrior clothes and she wore her full leathers. 

Beron finally broke the tense silence. “How rare for you to visit, Tamlin.” His brown eyes slid over to her. “Will you introduce us to your companion?”

Meridian had told Tamlin about her role in convincing Beron to join the War before they left the manor, so he was not surprised when she said, “does the hair really change my entire appearance?” Beron stared at her. “I suppose the eyes do the trick too.”

“This is Meridian,” said Tamlin, “my new emissary.”

He had not told her he planned to introduce her as such, but she did not show any surprise at the title.

“Meridian,” recognition dawned on the other High Lord, “The Shadow Pearl?” It was the name she had been often called during the war. She had never uttered the name Precious Pearl, as they had called her in the continent. “I thought you were dead. I heard you died in battle during the War five hundred years ago.”

Meridian smiled at him. “It takes a lot to kill me,” she said, her voice sweet. “Hybern armies didn’t make the cut.”

Beron gave her a long look and his sons eyed her with more interest now. “Now you’re at the Spring Court of all places?” 

Tamlin tensed. “Why not?” Meridian shrugged. “Tamlin is holding the border to protect the human lands, so I thought I would join him.”

Beron arched his eyebrows. “Protect against whom? Us?”

“Any fae or creature that thinks they can sneak through my borders for a meal,” said Tamlin, his voice hard. “The Naga, for example.”

Meridian caught the look between the three sons at the left and Eris seemed to catch it too. He eyed them suspiciously. 

“We were concerned that perhaps your guards had been injured by the naga that crossed from your court to the Spring Court,” Meridian made her tone sound nonchalant but threatening at the same time.

Tamlin held Beron’s gaze as he added, “they must have been badly injured if they allowed thirteen naga to cross over to my court.”

“An incompetence that will be punished,” Beron’s words where blatant lies. “My sons informed me that the guards had alarmed them too late about the Naga. They joined the hunt but the Naga had a head start. They crossed over to the Spring Court and since you keep Summer Court guards, my sons did not want to risk a misunderstanding and retreated.” 

Eris’s jaw clenched as he looked from his father to his brothers. Meridian stored the information away and looked at Beron with cold gray eyes. Her lips curled into a cruel smirk. “I see you haven’t changed,” the High Lord glared at her. “Five hundred years and you’re still the same, my dear Beron.”

"Have you?" He drawled. "Weren't you a friend of Rhysand?"

Tamlin, to his credit, didn't tense at the reminder. Meridian was actually pleased by the question. She knew to word it carefully to avoid pissing off Tamlin while sending Beron a message.

"We are still friends," she smirked, "why do you ask?"

The High Lord at her side did not react, Meridian almost felt proud of his control. She could feel the rising heat coming from Beron as his face hardened while Meridian held his gaze and her curling lips in a smirk. 

"I see, you were being considerate," Tamlin's tone let them know he did not believe a word and he added a threat. "If we happen to lose the naga, or any other nasty creature close to your borders, we shall do the same. I will let your sons handle it," he gave Eris and the other brothers a glare, "I wouldn't want to cause a misunderstanding."

The auburn haired males recognized the threat in Tamlin’s words:  _ pull another stunt and you might find creatures in your borders with a taste for your blood _ . Meridian knew that he had killed one of Beron’s sons when he had helped Lucien—and Lucien had killed another. Meridian looked at the three carefully and slowly glanced at Beron with curious eyes.

“Which one is it?” Her voice was white innocence.

The High Lord’s face froze for a second but he quickly composed himself and held his chin high. Over five hundred years ago, Meridian had been working on convincing Beron to fight the War on the mortal side but he was stubborn. He kept his young children within the walls of the Forest House but one afternoon Meridian had been sitting on the roof of the cabin a mile away from the House when she had spotted a young child with auburn hair sneaking through the back with a wooden sword. He had wanted only to play in the forest, restless of being locked up indoors. 

Meridian hadn’t alerted anyone and followed the shadows behind the boy. She did not raise any alerts, not even when she sensed the danger creeping in the forest. The creature that caught the scent of the young child was rare, hunting for prey from court to court regardless of the cold or the heat or the power they possessed. Once the Bauk caught scent of a victim it was impossible to hide the trail but once they had their claws on them the creature laid claim and even if they rescued the child, they would die. 

The child had dropped its wooden sword and his scream echoed through the forest. Meridian gathered her shadows then, having an excuse that she had seen nothing until she heard the child scream. 

Darkness sneaked behind the Bauk and she threatened the beast with her Sword of Darkness. She was threatening it to let the child under its claws go when the Autumn Court guards arrived. 

“Stay back,” she had warned them as the Bauk growled, its claws gripping the boy’s arms. 

“I have laid my claim,” it’s voice had been a hiss of nightmares, “even if you take him back, the child will die and I will devour his soul.”

Meridian knew her history, stories of all kinds of creatures that lurked the earth without territory, simply breaking havoc and spilling blood. “Shall I challenge you for it?” The forest drew darker as she summoned more shadows. “From a creature of darkness to another.”

She had slayed the Bauk and its claim on the child had been passed to her. Meridian owned one of Beron’s sons. It had been cruel, but her job often required risks. She would’ve never let the child die and this was the second Bauk she had slayed. Meridian had not dangled his son's life in order to make him join the mortal side of the war. She had convinced him that the Bauk had been sent by the opposition because he refused to join them, but if those were their recruiting methods he had to strike them back. It had worked. Beron supported the mortal side and sent his children away to keep them from harm's way. 

The Lady of the Court was staring at her wide eyed as she realized who she was, at the time she had only gotten a glimpse of her and Beron had never introduced them, not even after she saved the child.

Beron glanced at the three sons that stood at the left. Meridian searched for the claim on him, a rusted chain that tied him to her like a dog with a leash. She tugged at the chain and the one standing in the middle shuddered. She smiled sweetly at him. “Your father’s eyes, I remember. You’re all grown up now.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court changed the topic abruptly, cutting off his wife who had looked like she was about to thank her. “I see you set up a strong ward in the border,” he addressed Tamlin.

Tamlin placed a hand on Meridian’s shoulder. “Meridian is very talented.”

Beron gripped the arms of his throne tightly and glanced at her suspiciously. “I don’t see your shadows anywhere.”

Meridian kept her face neutral. “I found myself evolving and the shadows no longer suit me.”

Her mask was unbreakable, but her chest ached at her words.

The High Lord pursed his lips, still eyeing her with suspicion as if she was hiding shadows in his mansion to spy. 

“We will take our leave,” said Tamlin.

Beron looked like he couldn’t agree more.

…

Tamlin and Meridian sat for breakfast. She had taken down the ward between the border of the Autumn Court and the Spring Court when they returned and she had felt the drain of power that she had not even noticed before stop at once. She felt a small discomfort in her head, like the beginning of a headache and had asked Nita to mix medicine in her juice. 

“Are you going to tell me?” Tamlin finally asked. He had been eyeing since they returned.

“I saved one of his sons from a Bauk,” she explained, “it had already laid claim so I had to challenge the Bauk for his soul. I killed the Bauk and the claim passed to me.”

Tamlin looked impressed. “Bauk are rare. None have been spotted for five hundred years.”

“Very rare in Prythian,” she agreed. “I had killed one before, in the continent. I convinced Beron to fight for the mortal side after that.”

“His life isn’t worth much,” Tamlin said with disdain. “They’re all as cruel as Beron is.”

Meridian nodded in agreement. “He was a child then, pity he turned out to be just like his father.”

“What about the shadows?” Tamlin questioned her. “What did Beron mean by that?”

Meridian sighed. “I was a shadowsinger.”

Tamlin pursed his lips and frowned. “Was? That is not something that goes away.”

Meridian leaned back against the chair and held his gaze. “The king threw me into the cauldron to take away my powers so it could replace what it claimed to have been taken.” 

She did not mention names, but Tamlin knew not to ask about Feyre or her sisters. “You have to be powerful to cast those warding spells.”

Meridian had known she would have to explain to Tamlin sooner or later, so she told him about her pearlwitholder abilities and how she had hid the spell book, which had been inside her when she was thrown into the cauldron. 

After breakfast she and Tamlin trained with Amir and Orson and then did rounds around the lands. Meridian went up to her room after that to write a full report for Rhysand, from the point the flare went up to using the blood of the naga to confirm where it had come from. Then she wrote a report on the visit to the Autumn Court. 

Seeing the use of her powers in writing, Meridian considered that it was time she asked Armen for her thoughts on them. Perhaps it was time to test her limits and how exactly her power worked. How was it that she seemed to know what to do? How did she know she could cast a ward in the border? Why had she grabbed the naga with her hand instead of stabbing it? How did she subconsciously know it was deadlier than her dagger? Meridian was sure she knew the answer, she only had to bother looking for it. But she felt uneasy and unsure she wanted to know. 

Sighing, she folded up the report and stuck it in an envelope.

…

Meridian went to bed earlier than usual, she felt exhausted, her day having started before the sun was even out. After lunch she had spent some time sprawled in the grass while Vane sat next to her, asking her about the Autumn Court and she asked about the wounded guards.

After a while the conversation turned into normal banter and Vane’s tentative flirting. Vane was a little serious and reserved at first but he liked to have long conversations and Meridian could tell he was attracted to her. His flirting was tentative and it made her feel flattered because he was always careful not to make her feel uncomfortable and he always tried to read her moods. 

Vane was attractive, with brown eyes, naturally tanned skin with sun freckles sprayed across his back—she had seen him shirtless a few times—and blond, sun washed hair. 

Meridian sometimes considered letting him bed her, but he treated her like he wanted to court her. There were also the scars—how would he react? Vane was a warrior, but even warriors liked pretty women with unmarred skin. 

Meridian saw less of Unan because he was in charge of the night shift, but when she did, he wasted no time flirting with her. Unan had dark skin, a strong jaw, penetrating green eyes, and his hair was dark and braided long. He was handsome and a smooth talker. He didn’t talk to her like he wanted to court her, his flirting and suggestive looks made her certain he wanted to bed her and be done with it. 

That made Unan a better choice to sleep with—if she managed to overcome her panic that her scars would be seen and she would be faced with disgust. Perhaps she could put conditions in place, ride Unan and be done with it. She could keep her shirt on or lay on her back the entire time. Or maybe she could glamour her scars, make them see smooth skin.

Meridian let out a sigh and climbed over the bed, pushing those thoughts away along with the small voice inside her head that told her she was only thinking about those things because Azriel had rejected her. She puffed up the pillows and was about to lay her head and pull the covers over her when she felt a tug at her chest. 

She glanced over the bathroom and internally cursed at the shadows gathering behind the half-opened door. Azriel stepped into the room, hazel eyes not meeting hers as she glared in his direction. She warded the room and sat down, running her hand through her hair.

“I had a long day,” she sighed, “what do you want?”

The shadowsinger looked up, his eyes finally meeting hers. He took a tentative step forward. “How did it go in the Autumn Court?”

Meridian climbed off the bed, not bothering to fix her riled up silk shorts as she walked over the desk. She opened the journal and grabbed the envelope with her report. She walked over to Azriel, her anger towards him preventing her to feel remotely shy about her exposed skin and the way her nipples were notable through the silk of her shirt. 

She handed the envelope to Azriel. “I wrote a detailed report for Rhysand.”

Azriel blinked at the envelope and nodded, tucking it inside his clothing. Meridian climbed over the bed again, blowing out the candles with a wave of her hand. 

“Mer—“

“I’m tired,” she cut him off, “everything is in the report, I’m going to sleep.”

She slipped under the covers and closed her eyes.

  
  


Meridian had the same nightmare as the previous night.

_ She was in Hybern, in a cell of thick iron bars inside a room that was hidden in the depths of the castle. There were no windows but dim faelights illuminated the room faintly. Meridian lay on the cold stone floor, her body hollow and weak. _

_ She called the shadows for comfort but they did not respond to her. There were shadows hunched over all around the room, casting shapes against the walls and floor, there were so many, yet they ignored her. They did not answer her whispers and they did not wrap around her to comfort her. _

_ Her dark hair dragged across the floor as she pulled herself toward the left side of her cell. She could see a figure kneeling in the shadows against the wall and the darkness seemed to gravitate towards them. She pulled her body and the bars around her disappeared, allowing her to get closer to him. She was almost there, her hand reached for him, for Azriel, but he slapped her hand away, face twisted in disgust as he wrapped the shadows around himself and vanished.  _

Meridian shook awake, her skin glistening with sweat, her breath ragged as she was pulled up into a sitting position. Her body jerked back against the headboard as she realized she hadn’t woken up on her own, some had shook her awake. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Azriel’s voice was a soft whisper in the darkness of her room.

Meridian pressed the heels of her palms over her eyes and tucked her knees against her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you wanted to sleep,” he said, as if that explained why he was lurking in her room.

“That was the cue for you to go,” she muttered.

She felt something leathery brush against her leg, it was Azriel’s wings as he made himself comfortable next to her, his wings tucking tighter against his back as he sat against the headboard. “I wanted to stay.”

“That’s creepy and unmannered,” she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

“I am a bastard,” he offered, “I wasn’t taught proper manners.”

Meridian shook her head, the lingering nightmare disappearing into her mind. “That’s something Cassian would say.” 

“Would you rather he was here?” 

“Cassian is easier to talk to, so yes.”

She risked a look at Azriel and quickly looked away from the defeated look on his face—unmasked in the darkness. Perhaps he was unaware how good her vision was in the dark, thinking it had gone along with the shadows. 

“Cassian is an open book,” she added, “so I can read him easily. I can never tell what you’re thinking. I don’t know why you’re still here.” 

Azriel was silent, but his shadows caressed her cheek softly. Meridian really couldn’t read Azriel. He had been so close to kissing her, to touching her in the ways she wanted and then he had pulled away from her and shown her nothing but cold indifference. 

“I can’t read you either,” Azriel said at last and she could not argue with that. After another moment of quiet, Azriel shifted in the bed so he was sitting on the edge. “You should go back to sleep.”

Meridian sighed. “I’ll have the same nightmare again.”

“I will stay here,” he offered. “Your wards are still up, I can leave at sunrise.”

She really couldn’t read Azriel but as he had said, she was the same. Meridian had an extensive amount of masks she wore to hide her true feelings. Her mind was an impenetrable fortress and she knew how to control and hide her emotions. They had more things in common than she had considered. It was often said that mate bonds were between two people who balanced each other, but perhaps this time their bond had been a fluke. Azriel needed someone sweet and kind like Elain or someone who dragged him out of the shadows to look at the fun sides of life like Mor.

Meridian wasn’t sure what she needed. Perhaps her needs were the same as Azriel because they were broken in similar ways. Maybe her Elain was Vane and her Mor was Unan. 

Pushing the thoughts away, she slipped under the covers and lay on her stomach. The bed shifted and she felt Azriel lay down next to her. She closed her eyes as the shadowsinger’s hand wrapped around her hand that laid under the pillow.

Her treacherous mind whispered that she knew what she needed—who she needed. 

_ Azriel _ .

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Beron: who’s this?  
> Tamlin: my emissary   
> Meridian, in her head: his babysitter, but I prefer Queen that rules his lands 👸   
> ...  
> Meridian: remember I own one of your sons?  
> Beron: 👁👄👁 anyways,,,
> 
> Azriel returning with his tail between his legs.
> 
> Do you think she forgave him too fast?


	13. The Emissary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian wakes up to her hand being held and a wing arched around her like a shield. She feels conflicted about what the gesture means from Azriel. 
> 
> As the Spring Court’s new appointed emissary, Meridian goes to the village with Tamlin. Resentment still burns hot in many villagers and past sentinels, but Meridian has been shaping and influencing Tamlin, she might not trust him but she trusts her skill that he will rise to the test.

Meridian did not dream the rest of the night. She slept peacefully and when she woke up to the chirping birds of the Spring Court, she felt fully rested for the first time all week. For the first few minutes of her morning daze, Meridian thought she was still dreaming because there was somebody holding her hand and there was no sunlight streaming through the crack of the curtains she always left parted. She carefully lifted her hand—the one that wasn’t being held—over her face and her fingers touched a leathery texture. Her heart jumped on her throat as she realized it was Azriel who held her hand and whose wing was spread over her like a shield. 

She spread her palm over his wing and carefully traced the shape of it. Azriel’s wing twitched and she felt him shift besides her. Meridian did not move her hand, waiting. 

“Wings are sensitive,” Azriel’s voice was husky with sleep and the sound of it made her shiver. 

Meridian caressed his wing again. “What does it feel like?” Her voice was also sleepy. “Does it tickle?”

Azriel hummed and it turned into a throaty sound as she moved closer to him so she could reach closer to where they emerged from his body. He let go of her hand and she thought he was going to pull away, but he reached for her exploring palm and moved it back to where she had been touching before. 

He dropped his hand and grabbed her other palm again. 

“What’s the difference?” She asked. “Are you more ticklish here?” She traced his wing all the way to where it curved and dipped into his back. 

Azriel tried to suppress a groan, but she heard it. He grabbed her hand and pinned it to her other. A feeling of disappointment flooded her as he tucked his wing behind his back along with the lingering shadows. Sunlight streamed through the room, now visible without restriction. 

“I thought you were leaving at sunrise,” she commented.

Azriel let go of her pinned hands and sat up. She gulped. Her imagination was right. She had avoided glimpsing at his face and had distracted herself with his wing because she had known Azriel’s morning face was going to affect her in ways she couldn’t control. Her knowing mind had been right. 

The shadowsinger was heartbrokenly attractive in the morning, his elegantly beautiful features looked a little softer and his hazel eyes caught the sunlight in the most beautiful way. He glanced at her as she sat up and he licked his lips, the gesture and the look of his eyes sent a wave of heat to her core. 

Meridian’s breath hitched as he tucked her hair behind her ear and his fingers traced down her neck and shoulder. She shivered as his fingers traced her arm and he pulled the strap of her shirt up to her shoulder, fixing it, she realized, because it had slipped down her arm when she slept, flashing her breast when she sat up. Meridian’s ears, cheeks, and chest flushed red in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” he whispered and his ears, too, were pink. “I should go, Tamlin’s awake.”

Meridian nodded her head. The lingering shadows trailed after Azriel and stopped with him as he turned to give her a small nod before silently slipping into the bathroom. 

When she felt him leave, Meridian remained sitting for a moment, wondering where they stood. She had been angry and frustrated with him for the way he had pulled away from her the previous day. But then he had returned that same night and stayed even after the way she had brushed him off. Azriel had stayed with her, shaken her awake when she was trapped in a nightmare and had laid down in bed with her, holding her hand the rest of the night. 

He hadn’t left at sunrise, he had stayed with her until she had woken up for the day. But how did that change things between them? Azriel was only confusing her more. He had ignored her at first, then acted like he cared for her and then ignored her once again. Then he had been worried and almost jealous when she had left with that male the night at Rita’s. He had even seemed jealous of her closeness to Cassian and the idea of them living together. Then after the naga attack he had been so worried and had been so close to kissing her, only to pull away and give her cold indifference. 

But he had come back and he had never said the real reason why. It was frustrating. She couldn’t read him, his thoughts, feelings, and intentions were so guarded. 

Perhaps his worry and jealousy were because of the bond, she realized with a numbing ache in her chest. The mate bond made him worry about her and made him jealous of other males who approached her. Azriel was already in love with someone else and even if the instincts of the mate bond pushed him to her, him pulling away from her might be him breaking free of the mate bond instincts. 

…

“What’s this?” Meridian asked as she sat for breakfast.

Tamlin and Median had fallen to the routine of waking up, training with Amir and Orson, showering, and then eating. Her hair was still wet from the shower, she pushed it back over her shoulder as she admired the jewelry box next to her plate.

“Your pay,” said Tamlin, “since you have a title now, I thought I should start paying you.”

Meridian arched her eyebrows. He had given her a title when they had visited the Autumn Court—she was his emissary. Curious, she lifted the lid of the jewelry box and found rows of gold and silver marks and on top of them, there was a pair of earrings made of moonstones. They were different from the ones he had bought for her before. The pair was longer and the moonstone was shaped like a teardrop.

She smiled. “Thank you, the earrings are very pretty.”

“You have done a lot for the Spring Court,” he said, “I thought you deserved a present as well.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

She did not need payment from Tamlin since Rhysand was paying her handsomely enough, but she couldn’t refuse the pay. If she did, it would likely make him suspicious of her intentions or make him reassess her friendship with Rhysand. 

As they ate breakfast, they discussed the money donations he wanted to make to the village to help with the rebuilding process. 

They went to the village together after breakfasts and Amir and Orson joined too. Meridian wore her leathers and braided her white hair so that the moonstone earrings were visible. The villagers stared at them curiously, some still resentful while a few others—who she recognized from the Summer Solstice party—offered tentative smiles. 

Amir and Orson walked behind them as they approached the tavern in the middle of the village where the village leaders met to discuss reparation plans. The moment they entered the tavern, all the High Fae and the few other faeries inside that were taking orders and cleaning tables went silent. 

With every step they took in the silent tavern, the tension rose, eyes following their movements some with curiosity but most of them with anger and resentment. Meridian felt Amir and Orson tense behind them as several High Fae males rose from their chairs. Tamlin’s shoulders tensed as well and his hands were tight in fists. Meridian brushed the back of her hand against his, his gaze immediately dropping to hers. They held each other’s gaze for three long seconds and then he nodded his head, shoulders and fists relaxing. 

She was certain that it would unfold in the tavern and for once she felt very confident that Tamlin would do the right thing. 

Behind the bar, a blue skinned male stepped back so that an older High Fae male could address Tamlin. “Can I help you?”

He addressed Tamlin like a common villager—like a common villager he didn’t particularly like.

“We have come to make a donation for the village restoration,” said Tamlin. He had used  _ we _ , not  _ I _ , just like Meridian would’ve worded it. 

Meridian watched the males that had been sitting in the back approach them with burning purpose. Their eyes assessed Amir and Orson and their faces twisted in anger. 

“We don’t need your gold,” one of them spat.

Tamlin turned to look at him and something flashed across his eyes. Meridian assessed that the ten High Fae males must have been some of his sentinels. 

“It is not just gold,” said Tamlin, “but resources.”

“Tamlin and I have spoken with Vane, the head guard of the Summer Court stationed at the border,” Meridian explained. “With the donation of gold marks, you can afford resources from the Summer Court to help with the restorations. But we understand if you wish to build your village with your own hands—even then, the gold will be of help to those who cannot afford to build their houses or businesses.” 

“And who are you?” The male demanded. He had light brown hair and sun tanned skin. “Ianthe’s replacement?”

Meridian had heard of the priestess and she was actually offended. “This is Meridian, my emissary.”

The male snorted and stared back at the Tamlin. “We don’t need your gold. No matter how much you try to donate, we will not forget what you did.”

“I am not asking you to forget,” said Tamlin. “I made a mistake—a mistake that cost me everything. I won’t deny that what I did was wrong, there is no excuse for my actions. All I can do is admit I was wrong and work on myself and my court to learn from it rather than pretend it didn’t happen. I am not asking you to forget, I am asking you to move forward so this village can thrive because the people do not deserve to see their home collapse because of the mistakes I made.”

“Isn’t it a little too late for that?” The brown haired male retorted.

“That is for the people to decide,” said Tamlin. “They are still here, you are still here, because this is your Court as much as it’s mine—you’re still here because it is your home and you don’t want to see it collapse. I made a mistake, and I know there are many things that cannot be fixed and go back to how they were, but perhaps it is for the best. We don’t need to go back to how things were before, we need to do better. I need to do better.”

It was better than Meridian had expected. Tamlin had not only spoken from her influence, he had spoken from his heart and perhaps everyone in the tavern could see it because no one challenged his words. The High Lord touched her shoulder briefly before walking out. Meridian did not move, and Amir and Orson shared uncertain looks if they should both follow Tamlin. They made a silent decision, Amir followed Tamlin out and Orson stayed guarding her back. 

Meridian placed the bag of donations on the bar and turned to the group of males. “If you don’t work together, you will see your court fall. I am not from the Spring Court and I was not here to see him destroy what he had,” she paused, “but I heard from Rhysand and from many others who fought in the war.”

“He let Hybern into our home,” he snarled.

“I know,” she said. “I know what he did, but I also know he realized his mistake and fought against Hybern in the end. I know he made the Autumn Court fight back too and Beron is one stubborn bastard. I was not here for it, but five hundred years ago, when mortals fought to be free, my Lord made a mistake. He chose not to support the mortals. He did not want to risk fighting for them in case they lost and he faced repercussions for helping them. He thought keeping humans as slaves was wrong, yet he did nothing to change that. So I left my Lord and fought in the war. He made a mistake, but he never acknowledged it. The war dragged on for seven years and he did not join. He had the resources and the forces, but he would not accept his mistake. 

Tamlin made a mistake, but he does not deny it. He is working to make himself a better High Lord, he is trying to hold his crumbling court together and if you don’t work together, it will fall. Your home will fall. The Summer Court will not send their guards to protect the borders forever. Thirteen naga tried to break through the borders yesterday before sunrise. If we hadn’t had the help of the Summer Court, they would have reached the village. Now that the wall is down, naga and other creatures alike will try to make their way to human lands to have a feast. Tamlin and the Summer Court guards are the only thing standing in their way. Tamlin isn’t asking you to forget, he is asking you to protect your court. Amir and Orson did not become sentinels for the gold or because they forgot Tamlin’s mistake, they joined because they want to protect the Spring Court and the borders to the mortal lands.”

Orson nodded his head. 

“So think about what is best for your court,” she met all of their gazes, “training is at five in the morning.” She caught sight of a few females watching her with approval. “Females who can fight or want to learn how to fight to protect their village or the borders are welcome to join.”

When she left the tavern, Tamlin was already on his horse. She had stopped at a stall to buy freshly picked strawberries, she offered him the basked as she mounted her horse. 

“Eat one,” she told him, “they’re sweet.”

Orson was holding out another basket for Amir to grab. 

“Why did you take so long to come out?” Tamlin asked.

“I was choosing the best strawberries?” Tamlin gave her a look. She gave him an innocent look. “I had to speak my mind. Eat a strawberry.” Tamlin grumbled and brought one to his mouth. “I just told them that they needed to think about what’s best for the village. I also invited the females to join.”

“The females?” He arched his eyebrows. “To join what?”

“Your guard,” she said obviously, “your sentinels were only males before, right? Perhaps there are some strong females out there who wish to protect their court.”

She waited to see if Tamlin was going to object, but he simply ate another strawberry.

…

Tamlin's speech had spread across the village within hours. Nita, Gretel and Siana told Meridian the very next day that everyone was talking about what happened in the tavern. High Fae and lesser faeries alike were considering the High Lord's words—and hers too. Siana brought in a friend, a half High Fae, like her, to help with house chores. That same day, a female with dark skin and hair made of thorny vines joined the gardeners. She seemed to coax the flowers to thrive and two days later the rose bushes that had been nothing but thornes seemed to be waking up too. Gretel, Nita, Siana—and now Rue—were working six days a week rather than four and Gretel and Siana were actually staying in the manor since they weren't married. 

At first, only a High Fae male turned up. He was not one of Tamlin’s past sentinels, but he said he had been in the tavern that day and he wanted to help protect the borders. His name was Erion, and after three days of training he commented that High Fae males were thinking about joining the guard—a few of them were Tamlin’s sentinels who were thinking about coming back. 

It was a week after Tamlin had given his speech at the tavern. Unan had finished his shift at sunrise but he was sprawled on the grass, biting into an apple as he watched Tamlin and Meridian greet the six males that had shown up at five in the morning sharp.

Tamlin had whispered to her that only two of them had been his sentinels, one with long brown hair and a short haired blond. Meridian told all of them to get in pairs for sparring practice. 

Amir and Orson paired up and Erion seeked a partner with one of the newcomers. Unan yawned sleepily and got up, probably to head out to the Summer Court for his well deserved rest.

“Is training necessary?” The blond, who Tamlin had told her was named Rion, asked. “I thought we would simply be given shifts to guard the borders.”

The rest of them nodded in agreement. Amir, Orson, and Erion shared looks and shook their heads. Meridian mentally sighed. Training was important to see how well they were trained, and because only two of them had been sentinels before, it was more than necessary. Additionally, training together built trust among them—and Tamlin. 

Unan had paused his leave, arching his eyebrows at the newcomers. 

“Training is necessary,” she said, “I suppose some of you know how to hold in a fight and some of you are already trained, but we need to see how good you are and there is always room for improvement.”

“I’m more than good,” said Rion, “so is he,” he nodded his head towards the other sentinel, Manu. 

“I know you are,” said Tamlin, “but for now, we are all going to train and in a week or so we will start assigning shifts.”

Rion shook his head. “My fighting doesn’t need improving.”

Unan stepped forward and threw an arm around Meridian’s shoulders. “If you manage to beat Meridian here, I’ll take your word for it.”

Rion snorted. “Fine.”

A few night shift guards had come out of the manor. Since Gretel and Siana stayed the night, they had started making breakfast for the night guard. So they lingered around to eat and sometimes stayed to watch them train. 

“Go get Vane,” Unan whispered at one of his guards, “this is going to get interesting.”

Tamlin rubbed his temples, glancing at her pleadingly. He knew she was going to win, Tamlin had seen her go all out when they trained together. The night after Azriel stayed, she didn’t have nightmares, but they returned after the following night. Tamlin had taken to getting up and waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Meridian would slip on her leathers and find Tamlin waiting for her, dressed in his usual warrior clothes. She knew what he was doing and why he was going it. His speech at the tavern had been sincere, word by word. He wanted to be better so he wouldn’t commit the same mistakes. When Feyre had woken up screaming or crying from her nightmares, he had done nothing. So he was trying to do better by being there for Meridian. 

He knew she wasn’t Feyre and that she didn’t need him in the way Feyre had, but he was there as a sparring partner for her to take her frustration out. She still was not sure how to feel about it, but it didn’t hold her back from taking the silent offer and going all out during their sparring.

Meridian shrugged at him. “It wasn’t my idea.” She turned to Unan. “You better put some gold marks on me.”

“Wouldn’t bet on anyone else,” he grinned at her and Tamlin sighed.

Amir and Orson, and even Erion shook their heads at the newcomers that cheered as Meridian stepped forward. She hoped Rion wouldn’t feel too humiliated after she beat him. She wouldn’t want him to leave, but she also needed them to respect her and Tamlin’s orders. 

Meridian decided not to go all out, save Rion some pride so he wouldn’t quit, but she was definitely kicking his ass.

And she did.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Someone said in the comments that they need jealous Azriel anddd you’ll get it the next few chapters.
> 
> Also, Meridian is oblivious to this but Azriel had to go take a cold shower after he left.


	14. The Illyrian and the Emissary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian arrives at the Night Court after 6 weeks of being away. She spends some quality time with Cassian and he helps her choose some dresses and the sexy things that go under.

Meridian was sprawled on the grass with Tamlin sitting a few feet away from her reading correspondence. Rhysand and Feyre were trying to set another meeting to discuss the new treaty, but there were always two or three High Lords that declared themselves too busy to attend, thus it kept getting postponed. Tamlin had not been one of them because Meridian hadn’t let him refuse or pretend to be busy for it. Beron was one of the High Lords that always found himself with other matters to attend to. This last attempt to setting a date was only ruined by him.

Tamlin set the letter aside, it had been postponed again. Meridian sighed and popped another strawberry into her mouth. “I should just drag him to the meeting,” she said once she’d swallowed, “or the rest of you should just attend and meet without him.”

“He won’t agree to any treaty he was not there to negotiate,” said Tamlin, a fact she knew. 

“Force him,” she shrugged, “I’m sure I can convince him.”

Tamlin arched his eyebrows. The High Lord could be smart for somethings but very oblivious for others. For example, he had come to believe they had a friendship, not realizing that Meridian's purpose in the Spring Court had been to pick up his broken pieces, put them back together, and manipulate him into being the High Lord the Spring Court needed and Rhysand wanted to defend the border to the mortal lands. 

"With threats?" Tamlin questioned.

Meridian waved her hand. "I know I can't force him with threats. The whole point of this new treaty is peace between humans and fae. But he will continue to make excuses not to attend."

A week ago, one of Beron's sons was seen close to the border, probably observing how many guards were on shift. 

They had not done anything about it because he had not crossed over to the Spring Court and they could easily excuse it as a border check of their own. 

The Spring Court now had ten guards split into two shifts to protect the borders along with the Summer Court guards. That first week had been tense, but Meridian had worked her skills and now they were all working well together and following orders without remarks. 

“If Beron continues to refuse the dates and location, perhaps I should offer Rosehall as the meeting location.” Tamlin suggested, but he sounded unsure. “It might persuade Beron to attend, but I doubt  _ she _ would want to return here.”

Meridian stayed silent and closed her eyes. This idea had also occurred to her, but she hadn’t voiced it because of Feyre. She didn’t think Feyre would want to return to the Spring Court, not for many years or centuries. She didn’t blame her at all. Meridian never wanted to return to Hybern, not even for a mission. 

Tamlin took her silence as an answer. “You should go,” he said, putting away the rest of the letters, all which she had already read since she answered half of it. “I have kept you for too long, I have been wondering when someone from the Night Court will show up to make sure you’re alive and well.”

Meridian gave him a look, but in her mind she said, _if_ _he only knew that they already did_. “I leave tomorrow morning, did you forget?”

“You could go now,” he said, “it’s not even lunchtime and I can answer these letters myself.”

Most of the letters were from the village in regards to complaints, construction requests, and progress reports. Meridian sat up. “Are you sure you don’t need me for the rest of the day?”

“I can manage on my own,” he grunted, “I am not entirely useless.”

Meridian chuckled for two different reasons. “Alright then, I shall go get my things. If the boys are disappointed by my absence during lunch, it’s your fault.”

Tamlin shook his head. “I will take the fall.”

They walked together back to the manor and Meridian went up to her room. She had been in the Spring Court for six weeks and had sent a letter to Rhysand to let him know she was not returning when the fourth week ended and she was too busy training the guards. Rhysand hadn’t been too happy about it and Azriel had shown up the next evening. Once again, he had been acting indifferent and it had given Meridian one more reason to stay.

Cassian was not happy about her stay, he made Rhysand deliver her a note. Apparently looking for apartments was not fun when Mor criticized all of them and found something wrong with every single one he liked. 

As she packed the few things she was taking, she wondered if Azriel would be glad to see her or if he would act coldly again. When she went downstairs, she found Nita and Gretel setting the table, they gave her questioning looks when they saw her small suitcase.

“I won’t stay for lunch,” she said. “I will see you in a week.”

The maids nodded and wished her a nice break, telling her that she deserved a long break from all the boys that were always needing her for this or that. Tamlin walked her out, he still didn’t have wards in the manor, so she could winnow from inside, but walking out the front door seemed more appropriate.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

Meridian nodded her head and winnowed to the Night Court. She stood outside the House of Wind, wondering if anyone was up there. From where she stood, anyone could see her from the balcony, but after ten minutes of waiting, no one came down to fly her up. She sighed and decided to walk to the town house, feeling in the mood for a walk. 

Her stomach grumbled as she walked and she regretted not having lunch before coming. Perhaps everyone else had already had lunch. At the manor, the guards ate with Tamlin and her when they weren’t on shift, it had been Meridian’s suggestion and it had helped the guards trust and respect Tamlin more as a High Lord while also seeing his willingness to change and take opinions and suggestions.

The town house became visible, Elain’s flowers in the summer’s sun. As Meridian came closer to the house, she saw two figures standing in front of the small garden. The house had a huge garden in the back, the front was only a bed of flowers next to the entrance. Meridian stopped walking. She was too far to hear what they were saying, but Elain was moving her hands animatedly as she explained something to the figure standing next to her. Azriel stood next to her, nodding his head along. Meridian moved silently, walking closer to the house until she could see them clearly. Azriel was smiling softly as Elain explained her plan to plant those same flowers in the garden Feyre had promised she would have in the house she was designing. 

Azriel’s soft smile made her chest ache and she felt like she was intruding so she winnowed out. She went to Armen’s apartment. She had only been there once and the visit was very brief. 

Armen looked surprised when she saw her. “Rhysand said you were coming tomorrow.”

Meridian shrugged. “I thought I would pop in earlier.”

Armen’s eyes stared at her for a long moment before she stepped aside and let her in. “You came to see me first?” She eyed her suitcase.

“No one was at the House of Wind and I was not taking the stairs.”

“Didn’t you take them once just to avoid Azriel?” Armen and Meridian stared at each other, the white haired made her face blank but Armen’s lips curled anyway. “Perhaps you can fly yourself up.”

Meridian frowned. “I don’t have wings.”

“No,” Armen noted, “but you have a lot of magic stored up.”

She offered her a seat and Meridian took it. “Did Rhysand mention the wards and the naga I killed with a touch of my palm?”

Armen nodded. 

“That’s why I came to you,” Meridian admitted. “I want to hear your theory on this power I have.”

Armen leaned back against her armchair. “Spell books are powerful, the older they are the more powerful they become. They absorb magic and the book itself becomes powerful and you hid an old, powerful spell book inside you and now it’s sealed in you.”

Meridian nodded her head, this is what she had thought as well. “I absorbed the power from the spell book when I was thrown into the cauldron.”

Armen nodded. “But I think there’s more, isn’t there?”

“The first time I used it, with Cassian, that was an accident,” she explained. “But now it feels different. When I was fighting the naga, I knew what to do even though I hadn’t done it before and I knew I could set the ward in the border even if I hadn’t done it before. It was like my mind knew what to do, like it knew what I could do.” 

Armen got up and grabbed three books from a bookshelf. She returned and set them on the coffee table in front of her. “I marked the pages you should read. There is a myth of a powerful spell book that fell at sea and that part of the sea became a death trap. It was believed the sea absorbed the power  _ and _ spells of the book.”

“The spells?”

She nodded. “I think your power comes from the spell book and the spells inside the book.”

Meridian frowned, though her mind told her this made perfect sense. “But spells need to be said.”

Armen’s lips curled. “I don’t think that’s necessary for you, girl. I don’t have much to back my theory, but I think your mind, your subconscious stored all the spells away and that is why you know what to do. The spells live in you.”

Meridian paled. “That’s not—if it’s true—“

“You can be dangerous,” Armen finished for her, looking amused. “That spell book was very powerful and the spells inside it...that is how Amarantha trapped the High Lord’s powers inside her.”

Meridian eyes widened. “I wouldn’t—“

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand, her face bored. “Rhysand already gave me the speech that you wouldn’t do that and that I shouldn’t mention this to anyone. But you should be careful, learn to make it your power, learn to control it so it doesn’t decide to control you.”

After the lovely conversation with Armen, Meridian walked back to the House of Wind. Her stomach was growling and she was considering finding a restaurant to eat when Cassian landed next to her. He was mothersend, and she let him know with a hug.

He chucked and hugged her back. “Glad to see you too.”

Meridian pulled away and shoved her suitcase to him. “Take this up the house and take me out for lunch?”

Cassian took the suitcase and made a little bow. “Of course, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped back to see him fly off. He took a few minutes to fly down, so she assumed he had taken the suitcase all the way to her room. 

“What do you want to eat?” He asked when he returned. “I think the others already ate, I just came back from a little errand.”

“Anything is fine,” she said, hooking her arm around his and smiled, pushing away the image of Azriel smiling softly at Elain. 

“I know a place,” said Cassian and guided her down the street. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

“I didn’t have anything important to do today,” she explained, “so Tamlin suggested I leave early.”

“Tamlin,” Cassian grumbled, “why didn’t he let you off two weeks ago when you were supposed to return?”

“I was the one who offered to delay my time off,” she replied. “It wasn’t the right time to leave.”

“You spend more time at the Spring Court,” Cassian grunted reproachfully. 

“It is my job,” she reasoned. “Tamlin named me his emissary and he’s paying me now.”

“Rhysand told us,” he grunted. 

Meridian squeezed his cheek with her free hand. “Stop being so grouchy.”

He swatted her hand away. “I’m not the only one. Mor is furious—“ he suddenly smirked “—and she’s going to be pissed when she hears you’re back and I took you out to lunch.” Meridian arched a questioning eyebrow. “She warned me not to hog you when you come back.”

Meridian laughed. 

“I told her I’m clearly your favorite,” he said smugly.

Meridian hummed. “I won’t deny or confirm.”

Cassian squeezed her cheek this time. 

They arrived at a small restaurant where they asked for a table outside. The waitress changed Cassian's chair for a stool so his wings wouldn’t be squeezed by the backrest. Cassian asked her about the Spring Court while they waited for their food, which surprisingly didn’t take long even though most tables were full. He also told her about the apartment search, Mor had helped him narrow it down to two apartments, he said he would take her see them the next day.

She was watching Cassian’s wings curiously as she chewed on her food, remembering the random comment Armen had made when she walked her out. For now she would ignore the fact that Armen was onto her about Azriel, but she was curious if it was true. She swallowed the food and took a sip of wine.

“Is it true that wingspan says a lot about the size of your dick?” Meridian blurted. 

She should probably have waited for him to swallow his food as well because Cassian started choking violently. The couple sitting at the table next to them glanced over. 

Meridian offered him a glass of water. “You’re embarrassing us.”

Cassian took the glass and drowned half of the water. He set the glass down and gave her an incredulous look. “Who said that? Mor and Feyre?”

“Armen,” she corrected. “I went to her apartment when no one seem to be at the house. She also said Azriel’s wings are bigger.”

“Did she?” Cassian hissed. “Maybe we should all have our wings measured to stop this misinformation.”

Meridian smirked. “Well, the only way to disprove this misinformation would be to measure more than just your wings.”

That sent Cassian into another coughing fit while Meridian laughed. 

After their meal, Meridian made Cassian go into some boutiques with her after he informed her that Mor had the whole week planned with outings. So poor Cassian sat outside the dressing room waiting for her. She had bought a few summer shirts, a pair of pants, and a summer dress, it was the dresses she needed help with.

She opened the door of the dressing room and walked out to where Cassian was sitting. He looked up at her and gaped. The dress was navy blue with a deep V neck cut, sleeveless, with a single leg split.

“Is this one a yes or a no?” 

“Definitely a yes,” Cassian blinked. 

Meridian smiled happily at him and went back to get changed. 

“You didn’t even do a spin!” Cassian shouted after her. 

She ignored him and the shop assistants giggled.

The second dress was burgundy red velvet with off the shoulder draped sleeves. The dress showed every curve and hollow of her body, and she liked the feeling of the velvet when she ran her hand down her hips.

Meridian headed out for Cassian’s opinion. “I don’t know about the red,” she admitted. “What do you think?”

“Fancy,” he said, “you look good. Dark red suits you.”

“You think so?”

He nodded his head. “Do a spin.”

She clicked her tongue at him and went back to the dressing room. The next one was almost identical to the black one Mor had picked for her. 

It was rose pink satin with a cowl neck and a single split, it was a little more loose at the chest where the black one had been tighter, but it did hug her hips perfectly and the slip made the bottom loose for dancing. 

“Definitely take that one,” Cassian said when she came out. “This one looks like the black one you wore at Rita’s and every sensible male was watching you.”

“You flatter me,” she touched a hand to her chest. 

Cassian flickered off her sarcasm and said, “take all of the ones you tried. I’ll pay for them.”

Meridian arched her eyebrows. “I am a working female, I have two salaries now.”

When Meridian wrote to Rhysand about her new job title at the Spring Court and her pay, she told him to cut her pay but he had refused.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I know, Meridian The Emissary.”

Meridian showed him a vulgar gesture and walked off. She had two other dresses in the dressing room but decided to cut her shopping there in case Mor felt offended she didn’t ask her to come with. She changed back into her clothes and an assistant grabbed the three dresses she was taking. When she went to pay, Cassian had already grabbed her other bags and was at the counter, asking how much.

“I’m paying,” she pushed him off with her hip. 

“Let me pay for the lovely show—“ she jabbed her elbow on his rib and paid the giggling female at the counter.

She grabbed her bags and a grunting Cassian followed her out, complaining about her sharp elbow. “There’s one more thing I want to buy, you can pay for it.”

The store was right next to the one they had just come out and Cassian actually froze at the door, his eyes noting the displays. 

“What?” She smirked. “Are you shy now?”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Me? Ha!”

He followed her in, but she saw his throat bob as he swallowed. The store was full of displays showing off lace lingerie. Cassian was quiet as he trailed behind her. Meridian picked up a lace bralette that was completely see through except for the lace flowers that were meant to cover the nipples. She couldn’t hide her grin when she noticed Cassian’s pink ears.

She hummed. “Find something sexy and if I like it I will let you buy it for me.”

Cassian gaped at her for a moment but quickly snapped out of his daze and nodded. “That’s easy.”

…

They walked back to the House of Wind, Cassian insisted on carrying all her bags even as he picked her up to fly up the balcony. His wings were wide and she wondered if Azriel’s were really bigger. 

“Are your wings sensitive?” She asked loudly against the summer’s hot wind. She touched the membrane, her fingers trailing up to the edge and Cassian suddenly jerked.

“They are sensitive!” He shouted with a laugh as he soared high into the sky past the house. 

“Ticklish?”

“It depends where you touch,” he replied. Meridian clung a little tighter as he jerked in the air and dove down. “It's like if someone was touching your body, some parts are ticklish and others are sensitive in...other ways.”

Meridian thought back to how she had touched Azriel’s wing and blushed. “Oh.”

Cassian landed on the balcony and flickered her forehead. “You’re lucky I didn’t crash into the rooftop.”

Meridian rubbed her forehead. “Baby,” she called him and went through the glass doors first. 

“There you are!” Mor yelled. She enveloped her in a tight hug and scoffed when she saw Cassian. “You bastard!”

“What did I do?” Cassian asked innocently. 

Everyone was in the sitting room, even Elain. There were fresh flowers on the low table, probably her doing. 

“Where were you?” She demanded, then glared at Cassian again. “You always hog her! Why did you run off with her? Armen said she got here at lunchtime.”

Armen tipped her wine glass.

“I took her out for lunch,” Cassian replied, “is that a crime?”

Meridian kissed Mor’s cheek and went to greet Feyre and Elain in the same fashion. Rhysand tapped his cheek but Meridian only gave him a hug. She turned to Azriel, the shadowsinger smiled at her but it was strained. Meridian’s mind flashed to the way he had smiled at Elain and turned away.

Cassian and Mor were still bickering. The Illyrian was still holding her shopping bags so Meridian walked back to him and took them.

“You went shopping?” Mor gasped, just then paying attention to the bags.

“Cassian said you have the whole week planned so I went to buy a few dresses,” she explained.

Cassian sat down next to Azriel looking smug. “I helped her choose.”

“That’s from a lingerie boutique!” Mor accused.

Rhysand choked on his own spit and Feyre started coughing too while she patted her mate’s back. Elain looked away, her cheeks pink while Armen arched her eyebrows at her with a judging glance. Meridian looked away, but as she did she caught sight of Azriel’s cold face and Cassian trying to look smug and cool, like he hadn’t been blushing at the store.

“I needed some underthings and I figured Cassian qualifies as a male opinion,” she shrugged. 

Mor gaped at her. “Did you really trust his judgment?”

“The ones he chose for me are nice red lacy things,” she said. “I like them.”

“I need to see with my own eyes!” Mor exclaimed.

“I’ll show you,” she nodded her head towards the way to the bedrooms.

Feyre, Mor, and even Armen followed. Elain was red faced, rearranging the flowers in the middle of the low table. Rhysand was leaning against the chair, his arm over his eyes. Cassian was casually pouring himself a cup of wine while Azriel excused himself, shadows trailing dark as night behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!  
> Please tell me what you think.
> 
> I just love Meridian and Cassian’s friendship. 
> 
> Y’all pray for Cassian tho. If Azriel hadn’t walked away Cassian would’ve probably tried to talk about the lingerie he chose for Meridian and Azriel would’ve beaten his ass.
> 
> You’ll get to see more of jealous Azriel in the next chapters


	15. Three Illyrians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mor is worried about the relationship between Meridian and Cassian. Meridian is starting to believe fate really made a mistake when it made her Azriel’s mate. 
> 
> Meridian receives news about her past Lord and her past lover. And the Illyrians are too interested about who had been giving her gifts.

Meridian wished the shadows would still sing to her so she could ask them where Azriel had run to. He looked a little angry when he walked away, though he had quickly hid it. The white haired female shook her head and led the others towards her bedroom. The room was clean despite the month and half of her absence. Mor assaulted the lingerie bag while Feyre asked about the dresses.

Mor spread the lingerie on the bed. The one Meridian had chosen was a summer sky blue floral bralette with matching panties. Cassian had chosen a scarlet lace bustier set. Mor couldn’t believe her eyes. “Cassian chose the red?”

Armed arched her eyebrows. “I expected tacky,” she sounded a little impressed. “I suppose he’s not completely useless, but I am sure if you had asked someone else...you would’ve gotten even better advice.”

The two females stared at each other, Armen’s lips curled. Mor had not noticed the exchange but Feyre had, she quickly pointed at the blue set. “This one is very pretty.”

“It is,” Mor agreed, “they’re complete opposites, yet they would both look good on you.”

“Let’s see the dresses,” Feyre suggested.

Armen was still watching her and Meridian felt her shoulders tense. Did she know about the mate bond? Or had she noticed the way she looked at Azriel? She would have to interrogate Rhysand later, perhaps he had let it slip. 

“Did he really help you choose the dresses?” Mor asked in disbelief.

“I found them and tired them on,” she said, pushing her thoughts away for later. “He just gave me his opinion.” 

“We’re going to Rita’s the night after tomorrow,” Mor informed her. “Definitely wear the royal blue.”

Feyre nodded in agreement. Armen had finally turned her attention to the clothes. “Wear the red for a nice dinner,” she suggested. “We’re going out to eat tomorrow.” 

“And the pink,” said Feyre, “is perfect for the females only night.”

Meridian arched her eyebrows. “We’re having a female only night?”

Mor nodded. “I planned it, the boys aren’t very pleased about it.”

“I am,” said Armen.

Mor snorted and opened the armoire to hang up the dresses. Feyre was looking at the other pieces of clothing she had bought and Meridian spotted her suitcase next to the bed. She had to give her full report to Rhysand.

She reached for the suitcase and Mor grabbed the lingerie to put it away in the drawers. Meridian heard the drawer open and she opened the suitcase.

“Idian,” Mor said, using the old nickname she used to call her, “do you like Cassian romantically?”

The room went silent, Feyre stopped half way as she hung the summer dress and Armen looked perked at the conversation. Meridian took out her journal, where she wrote daily reports to hand to Rhysand.

“No,” she said, “Cassian knows I don’t and I know he doesn’t like me that way either.”

Mor nodded, closing the drawer. “It’s just—you two are so close and I didn’t want you to—“

“Hurt his feelings,” she finished for her, “or him to hurt mine?”

The blonde nodded again.

“I just feel close to him, as a friend,” she explained. “That night, I felt so unwanted and hurt and he was there for me, he let me cry it out and then he listened and then he made me laugh and we drank until I fell asleep. I know that there is someone else for him,” she glanced at Feyre.  _ Nesta _ was left unsaid, but it was understood.

“What about you?” Armen asked. “Is there someone else for you?”

Meridian avoided her gaze. “No—I don’t know. Maybe. There is a handsome guard from the Summer Court—“

“Summer Court!” Mor cut in. “Armen said you wore a different dress than the one you took for the Summer Solstice! And the way she described it sounded like the one you tried at the boutique.”

“Ah, yes,” she mentally grabbed for excuses, “I was surprised, it was an apology gift.”

Mor frowned and followed her out. Meridian didn’t dare look at Armen, her mind exploded with explanations. Armen had been there at the celebration, she had taken Azriel with her, how had it slipped her mind? What had the shadowsinger told her as his reason for wanting to go? Had he revealed anything? He was a spymaster, surely he knew how to lie. Armen knew he had gone to see her, but did she know why? Technically, Azriel had apologized so perhaps that was the same explanation he gave Armen. 

“Rhysand said the dress wasn’t available when he tried to buy it,” said Mor. “So who else needed to apologize to you? Who sent you the dress?”

“It was me,” said Azriel, his voice dark as the shadows around him. 

Armen looked satisfied as she went to sit in the armchair. Cassian looked lost and Rhysand was suddenly finding the material of the settee very interesting. 

Mor arched her eyebrows. “What did you have to apologize for?”

“I was rude,” he said simply.

Mor pivoted towards her. “Az was rude to you?”

Cassian looked in between the two. Feyre sat down slowly, as if the tension of the room was affecting the gravity, besides her, Elain looked startled. 

“It was nothing,” Meridian dismissed. “It was a mutual misunderstanding. It’s buried and forgotten now.”

Armen looked displeased. 

Meridian walked over to Rhysand and handed in the journal. “Here’s six weeks worth of reports. There isn’t much for most days, but I only go into detail on the significant bits.”

Rhysand watched her with amusement as she went to sit next to Cassian. “The report you sent with Az, when you went to the Autumn Court—you never told me how exactly you convinced Beron to join the War five hundred years ago, not until now. All you said was that you had slayed a dangerous creature that had almost attacked one of his sons.”

Meridian crossed her legs and leaned back against the backrest. “Details,” she shrugged. 

“Do you know which one of his sons was watching the border?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see him, it was Unan who reported it, and they didn’t really introduce themselves when I met them.” 

“All four of them are the same,” Cassian spat, not including the exiled one—Lucien.

“They’re not stupid enough to cross the border,” Meridian assured them. “Tamlin made the threat clear. If they cross over, they’ll be hunted and killed. I think it might have been the one I saved as a child, he might be curious about me.”

Rhysand pressed his lips. “Having a son of Beron curious about you isn’t a good thing.”

Mor nodded in agreement, her face disgruntled. 

“I hold the end of his leach, I doubt he will get too close,” she assured them. 

Seeing Elain’s confused and disturbed expression, Meridian poured herself a cup of tea from the tray on the low table and eyed the sunset colored flowers. 

“Are those flowers from the flowerbed in front of the house?” She smiled at Elain.

Elain blinked, relieved why the change of topic and smiled as she glanced at the flowers. “Yes, they’re called Dahlias—did you see the flowerbed? They only bloomed two weeks ago.”

Meridian kept the smile on her lips. “Yes, I was going to stop at the town house but I changed my mind and went to Armen’s, but I did see you and the flowers, they’re lovely.”

Azriel had been reaching for a cup of tea, but he paused at her words and retracted his hand. Meridian didn’t spare him a look. 

“I can bring more to the house if you like,” Elain offered. “You can keep a few pots in your room, as long as you water them and they get enough sunlight from the window, they’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Meridian said pleasantly, “I would love that.”

She took a sip of tea and listened to Mor talk about the plans she had for the week and then she started talking about the apartment search. Meridian kept glancing at the flowers, lovely like Elain. Mor didn’t seem to return Azriel’s feelings, but perhaps he knew that and he was finding something new with Elain. Feyre’s sister was sweet and kind and she had heard she was a seer—or had been, Feyre said the puzzling visions seemed to have stopped—so maybe she found comfort in Azriel, who could see and hear things others couldn’t. Meridian couldn’t do those things anymore, the shadows were unresponsive to her and she didn’t think she could be sweet if she was being herself. She could put up the act of a sweet person if she needed for a job, but if she was herself she doubted she could be. 

Perhaps Elain and Azriel were a better match and fate had made a mistake tying them to Lucien and Meridian.

…

Cassian and Meridian laid panting and exhausted on the training yard. She wore the Illyrian leather pants and a simple white top and her hair was tied in a long braid. Cassian had taken off his shirt, his skin glistening with sweat. They had started training at six in the morning and hadn’t collapsed until eight.

“I still have to go the camp,” Cassian panted, “I’m beat.”

Meridian heaved a long breath. “When are you going to take me along? I’m curious.”

“There is nothing you would enjoy there,” he grunted, “they dislike outsiders and they treat females badly.”

Meridian had heard as much. Mor hated the Illyrian camps and Meridian had not been to one for five hundred years but from what she heard not much seemed to have changed. “I’m still curious.”

“There you are,” Rhysand’s steps were quiet but Meridian had heard him come up, but she was surprised when she saw Azriel behind him. 

Rhysand looked down at her with arched eyebrows. “Meridian if you keep training like this I am really going to start fearing you are planning to throw me off the window.”

Meridian lifted her hand and Rhysand took it, pulling her to a sitting position. He waved his hand and a glass of water appeared in front of her. Cassian complained about his lack of water and the High Lord rolled his eyes and popped one up for him. 

“I don’t need more training for that,” she pressed the glass to her lips and drank three large gulps. “Piss me off again and his Royal Darkness is going out the balcony.”

Cassian spat out his water with a roar of laughter. Rhysand looked amused. “Royal Darkness? Flattering.”

Azriel had picked up one of the towels they had set aside and chucked it at Cassian. Meridian avoided his gaze as he leaned down to hand her a towel. She took it and mumbled a thanks without touching his fingers.

“Did you need something?” She asked Rhysand before pressing her face to the towel to dry off the sweat.

“Not necessary,” said Rhysand. “I just thought I’d share what we found out from the continent.”

Meridian wrapped the towel around her neck and looked up at him to continue.

“Lord Terron is dead, his successor is his only son,” Rhysand informed, “Lord Arron.”

Meridian got to her feet and looked away. 

“You gave us a lot of detailed information about Arron and the way he runs his Court is very similar to his father,”said Rhysand. “But knowing that he is the Lord now, is there anything you can add?”

“No,” she said, her voice plain. “Like Lord Terron, he did not support keeping mortals as slaves and treating them badly, but when I asked him to convince his father to join the war and help the mortals be free, he didn’t do anything about it.”

“He named a ship after you,” Azriel’s voice was smooth darkness. “He thinks you’re dead.”

Meridian stiffened and she saw Azriel watch the change of posture. She tucked the strands of hair that had come off her braid. “Best if it stays that way. I don’t intend to go back.”

“Lord Arron doesn’t seem like a threat to the mortal lands,” said Rhysand, “but we are still watching just in case. If he makes a move, I won’t make you step in, but you know him best and your death seemed to have affected him if he named a ship after you.”

Meridian’s face hardened. “It could backfire,” she said, trying to keep her voice plain. “He will try to make me go back to him and if I don’t he will throw a tantrum.”

“You were close then,” Azriel was watching her closely.

“We grew up together,” she said half heartedly and turned to Rhysand as she said, “then we were lovers and I left him when he wouldn’t fight for the mortals.”

“Oh Mer-Mer,” Cassian threw his sweaty arm around her shoulder, she shuddered. “You have a ship named after you?”

Meridian shrugged his arm off. “Probably Arron’s way of honoring his dead lover. If that was all, I’m going to take a shower.”

She did not give them time to respond before walking off. Lord Terron was dead and Arron was the Lord of the Court. She wondered when the lord she had served had died and her lover took his place. Lord Terron didn’t know about their relationship. Arron and Meridian kept it a secret, they were both good at that. Their romance was probably the best kept secret in the court.

Arron was loved by his courtiers and servants, they kept his secrets without needing to be told. The maids had found them tangled in the sheets several times but they simply bowed their heads and didn't even whisper about it. There was also the fact that they loved Meridian as much as they were terrified of her. They knew better than to cross her and risk her shadows paying a visit at night. 

Meridian arrived at her room and immediately started the bath while she undressed. She dropped her clothes on the floor and added soap to the filling bath. Once it was filled with bubbly water she slipped in, making herself comfortable and closing her eyes. 

Arron had begged her not to leave, when she told him she was leaving to fight on her own even if he and his father didn't join her. He had tried to hold her back, ordered her to stay and it was then that Meridian realized that she could be smart and manipulative in her missions all she wanted, but Arron had fooled her for years. Meridian could outsmart other lords and get them to comply to what Lord Terron wanted, but when it came to her heart she was stupid and blind. Arron saw her as his property, his loyal lover who he could have whenever he wanted. 

Meridian was stronger than him, but he was the Lord's son and only heir and he thought that entitled him to have anything he wanted, including his father's trusted emissary. 

So Meridian left in the middle of the night, no one saw her slip through the shadows. She left the castle and never turned back, joined the mortal forces in Prythian where she met Rhysand and then Morrigan. She quickly gained reputation in the armies and her gifts put her high in the ranks, going from camp to camp, delivering crucial information. They called her The Shadow Peal and she was known for her gifts of shadows and her blue pearls but also for how ruthless she was in battle. 

The war raged on for years and Lord Terron and Arron never joined her to fight, they stayed in their court and didn’t risk their position of power to help the mortals. Meridian vowed not to return.

…

When Meridian finished her bath, Cassian was wolfing down breakfast in the dining room. Rhysand and Azriel must have already eaten because there were no plates in front of them. She internally sighed at the sitting arrangement: Rhysand sat next to Cassian and Azriel right across from Rhysand, if she skipped a chair from where Azriel sat it would raise some eyebrows from Cassian. Everyone knew about the dress being an apology gift form Azriel, she didn’t want to give Cassian a motive to question her about it so she sat across from him and next to Azriel. 

“You know the food isn’t going to run away,” she told Cassian as she started piling her plate. 

The Illyrian shoved more food into his mouth in response.

“Pig.”

“He’s going to Windhaven,” said Rhysand, “and it looks like you exhausted him during training.”

Meridian snorted. “It’s his fault, he called me slow when we started.”

“You were yawning,” Cassian accused. 

“It’s my week off,” she scoffed, “I wake up before sunrise almost every day, train with Tamlin and then train the new guard.”

“Why all the training?” Rhysand asked.

“Not all the of the new recruits were trained—“

“No, I mean you,” Rhysand clarified.

“To get back in shape,” she shrugged. 

She tried to reach for the toast but Azriel pushed it over for her. “You are in shape,” he said. 

“I had five hundred years of rust,” she countered. “Cassian got me back to a good shape but it still wasn’t the same—not that it’ll ever be. I can’t rely on the shadows anymore.”

“That’s true,” Rhysand mused, then shuddered. “You used to cut through enemies before they could even see you. What happened to your sword?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, refusing to think about it. “I don’t think the King had it, he would’ve tried cutting me open with it.”

Azriel tensed beside her. 

“You need to get more weapons,” said Cassian. “Two short words and two daggers isn’t enough.”

Meridian waved her hand dismissively. “The short swords are really nice, they have a good grip and weight. Besides, Tamlin said I could use any of his.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue. “Just take some from Cassian—no, I can buy you a sword.”

“I can train you with Illyrian blades,” Cassian offered.

“Cassian doesn’t need all the blades he has,” said Azriel. “He has drawers filled with them—Mor’s Winter Solstice gifts.”

All three of them snorted. She arched her eyebrows at the missed joke.

“Mor is the worst at buying gifts,” Azriel explained while the other two nodded.

“It can't be that bad."

Cassian snorted. "She's the reason I have drawers full of blades I don't use."

"I have so many curtains," Rhysand sighed.

"Bed sheets." Azriel said plainly.

"Males are so difficult when it comes to gifts," Meridian defended. "Feyre, I'd give her new paints or a pocket sketchbook so she can sketch out any ideas she gets when she's out. Elain," she hummed, "some rare seeds so she can grow a garden of some type of rare flower she doesn't already have. Armen...shiny and expensive. And Mor, a nice dress, a piece of jewelry, or lingerie."

The three illyans nodded their heads. Rhysand said, "spot on."

“I wouldn’t know what you get the three of you,” she admitted. “For Cassian the first thing that comes to mind are weapons, so I see why Mor would think that too.” She glanced at Rhysand and Azriel. “I wouldn’t know what to get you.”

“I see,” said Rhysand. “I suppose we shouldn’t complain.”

“The last gift I remember receiving before I was locked up was from you,” she remembered. 

Rhysand crooked his head to the side, trying to remember. Slowly, he smiled remembering. “A weapon belt,” he said, “I remember. You had one that was all worn and falling apart so I gave you a new one that Winter Solstice we spent in a war camp preparing for another battle.”

“Was that the last gift you were given?” Cassian gaped. “What about since your return?”

“I said before I was locked away,” she clarified, “I have been given plenty of gifts since I returned. Mor took me shopping for clothes—“

“That doesn’t count,” said Cassian.

Rhysand nodded in agreement.

Azriel opened his mouth but Cassian stopped him. “The dress doesn’t count because it was an apology. But the blades—“

Rhysand snorted. “The blades do not count either then, besides Mor gifted them to you.”

Meridian rolled her eyes at the Illyrians. “Why are you making a big deal out of this.”

“You poor thing,” said Cassian. “When’s your birthday? I’ll give you the best present you can wish for.”

Meridian groaned. “I have been given gifts, stop being dramatic.”

“What gifts?” Rhysand questioned. “From who?”

Meridian looked down at her plate.

Cassian gasped. “Don’t tell me—the Spring Court!”

Meridian took a sip of her tea. Cassian and Rhysand stared at her, demanding answers. She sighed, setting her cup down. “Tamlin bought me two pairs of earrings for Summer Solstice.”

They both touched their hands to their chest in a dramatic gesture of betrayal. Azriel was very still besides her. 

“Then he gave me another pair and a nice jewelry box the day after he appointed me emissary.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Vane got me a thigh belt for my daggers and Orson is always bringing me strawberries from the village.” 

The three Illyrians shared a look. Rhysand said, "Tamlin seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Did you read my report?" She arched her eyebrows at the High Lord.

"I skimmed through it," he admitted.

She scoffed. "Well, your Royal Highness, if you look at the underlined parts, I made mentions of how Tamlin's behavior has changed and improved. He sees me as a friend now and while the new development isn't particularly to my liking, it does make my job easier."

The three Illyrians still looked unhappy. Cassian brushed it all off. “Mor gifted you clothes didn’t she? And I gifted you a nice pair of blades and there’s the dress Azriel got you. That means the first gift you received since your return were from us."

Meridian snorted. “You are so annoying.”

Cassian rounded the table and sat down next to her, throwing a muscled arm over her sore shoulders. “When’s your birthday? You’re celebrating here, right?”

Meridian elbowed his ribs. “Don’t you have to get going?”

The Illyrian cursed at the lost time and got up. “I’ll be back at noon to go check out the apartments, don’t let Mor convince you to go with her alone!”

Meridian waved him off. 

“You’re really going to get an apartment together?” Rhysand mused.

“Yes,” she told him sharply.

“Didn’t Feyre tell you she’s designing a house for us, there will be a room for you.”

“She did tell me,” she said more softly, “but I need a place now. I can’t just wait around for one of you Illyrians to come and fly me up, it’s annoying.”

“If you let me know you’re coming I could always come and fly you up,” Azriel said.

Meridian huffed. “No, thanks.”

Rhysand massaged his temples, watching her plop a strawberry into her mouth. “I’m off.”

Meridian choked on the fruit as the High Lord rose from the chair and hurried off. He had been waiting for her to have food in her mouth so she couldn’t call on him. Azriel quickly filled her a glass of orange juice. She took a large gulp to swallow the fruit stuck on her throat.

"Bastard," she gasped. "I was going to tell him to take me to the town house."

"I can take you," the shadowsinger offered.

Meridian shook her head and pushed her chair back, standing up. "I'm sure you have things to do. I'll do some reading instead." 

She walked straight to her bedroom, not looking back at the shadowsinger. It might have been wise to stay and accept his offer, because it seemed like Azriel was making an effort to act normal. When he had visited her at the Summer Court to check in on her and ask why she wasn’t returned to the Night Court the date she had planned, he had gone because Rhysand had asked. He had not stayed more than five minutes. He had gone as a spymaster, simply doing his job and not engaging more than necessary. 

The cold indifference had been a stab to Meridian’s chest. Now he was attempting to act normal—but it was normal in the sense of pretending there was no bond between them. Meridian was getting tired of the contradictions. She needed to start accepting that Azriel only ever acted like he cared—or like he wanted her—because he was affected by his instincts driven by the bond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you were worried about Meridian getting with Cassian. Here is clarification on how Meridian thinks of him. Friends, nothing more! I actually wrote this chapter long before the comments but I thought it would be fitting for Mor to be worried because they’re both her friends and she knows Cassian feels something for Nesta so she wouldn’t want Meridian to get hurt.
> 
> I did have the brief thought of them sharing a kiss during the chapter were they stayed at the hotel. But I immediately scratched the thought because it would be too cruel to Azriel and because it would just be awkward and messed up.
> 
> Also Rhysand already knew Meridian and Arron we’re lovers, he just wanted Azriel to get jealous. Meridian will end up throwing him out the window one day.


	16. Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian and Cassian find an apartment to live together. Azriel hovers.

As Cassian predicted, Mor tried to convince her to go take a look at the apartments without the Illyrian. She had even invited Azriel to come along, but Meridian refused, telling her she had to wait for Cassian. Mor had been listing all the reasons why Cassian was the worst roommate she could’ve chosen when the Illyrian arrived. The two of them bickered while Meridian sipped tea and Azriel lounged silently on the settee. After Cassian changed out of his Illyrian leathers to casual clothing, the four of them headed out—because Azriel had taken up the invitation. 

Cassian had carried her down from the House of Wind and twenty minutes later they were in the entrance hall of an apartment building with shiny floors and gray walls. It took Meridian a few minutes to realize she had been there before. Her body went stiff as she remembered the royal blue carpeted stairs and the double doors that led out to the street. 

“We’re going to the second floor,” Mor waved her over.

Meridian mentality cursed, but did not let it show on her face. She had caught Azriel watching her curiously when she was analyzing the place and the realization hit that she had been there before. 

The night she had been in the apartment building she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings but her mind remembered. 

The manager of the building opened the door of one of the apartments and Mor went inside first. Meridian glanced around the hallways first, she couldn’t remember the apartment number of that blond male, but she was sure this was the same building.

Mor gave her a tour of the place but she couldn’t see beyond the shiny floors and the memories of being pressed against the door while the blond licked her neck and held her by her thighs. 

They definitely couldn’t rent this apartment, she might run into the blond one day and if Cassian found out he would make it a big deal. She let Mor show her around and point out the best features of the apartment. Mor had approved both of the apartments, so the other one must be a good one too—that one must have to do.

"What do you think?" Mor asked.

Meridian had kept her face neutral throughout the tour. "I'm not sure," she hummed, "it's nice...but I'm not convinced."

Mor pouted. "I like this one better, but the other one is nice too."

They thanked the manager and Cassian ushered her out saying the other one was better while Mor talked some more with the manager. Meridian was happy to leave and thanked the Mother for not having run into the male she had almost slept with as they left the building. 

The other apartment was in a building three streets over. There was a bakery and a few small restaurants just down the same street. The building did not look as new as the previous one but Meridian thought the scrapped paint and the creaking door of the entrance added character. Inside, plants adorned the entrance and an old, pretty chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the entrance hall. 

The manager of the building came from a small office to greet them and showed them up to the third floor. The apartment for rent was at the end of the hallway, it was a corner apartment, one of the most wanted according to the manager. 

Meridian instantly liked the place the moment she walked in. Since it was in the corner, it had large windows on the sitting room and the dining room area. There were no walls dividing the sitting room and dining area and Meridian liked the openness of it. One of the walls of the sitting room had built-in bookshelves and the other one had a balcony, it was not too large but it had enough room for Cassian to land without problem. 

The apartment came with a few pieces of furniture left behind by previous owners. There was a long settee and a coffee table in the sitting room. They were then guided down the hall to the bathroom. The bathtub was big but Meridian wondered if Cassian could fit his wings comfortably. Right across the bathroom was one of the bedrooms. It was big enough to fit a large bed and it was already equipped with a closet and an armoire—which Cassian said was perfect to store his weapons. There was also a small desk in the corner of the room, right next to the large window illuminated the entire room with natural sunlight. 

The main bedroom was only slightly bigger than the other and was also equipped with a wall closet, an armoire, and a small desk. The room had two windows that almost covered the entire wall. Meridian could picture herself sitting behind the desk, writing reports and pausing to look as the sunset though the wide windows. 

“It has a bathroom,” said Mor, opening the door to the connecting bathroom.

The bathroom was a decent size and the manager explained that the bathtubhad just been replaced so it was brand new for them to use. The manger went out to give them time to look around some more but Meridian already had a decision as they went back to the sitting room. 

“What do you think of this one?” Asked Cassian.

“I love it,” she said. It was not a lie to stay away from the first apartment they have visited, she really did like the openness of this one. “I think this one’s it.”

Cassian shouted something at Mor and lifted Meridian up in celebration, they had bet on which one she would choose. Meridian rolled her eyes at him and slapped his arm once he had put her back on the floor. She felt Azriel’s gaze on them but she ignored it. 

Meridian knew Azriel was trying to pretend they weren’t mates and that he hadn’t shared some intimate moment where they had almost kissed. She knew he wanted to pretend it hadn't happened and she was good at pretending but she felt awkward around him. She couldn’t act normal around him the same way he did—she should be able to, but for some reason it seemed impossible to do so. Thus, she was playing safe by ignoring his presence the best she could. 

“Shut up,” Mor hissed at Cassian. “We should talk to the manager then, if it’s decided. 

Meridian nodded, still ignoring Azriel’s gaze on her, and followed her friend out. 

….

The four of them had gone to lunch together at the small restaurant just down the street from the apartment building. They would have to return the following day to sign the contract and get the key. 

“When do you think you’ll be done with the Spring Court?” Mor asked, taking a sip of wine. 

Meridian shrugged. “I’m not sure. There are only ten guards for now. My job will be finished when there are enough guards to cover the entire borders—two shifts.”

“I think you’ll have more joining soon,” said Azriel, talking normally. “The others will spread the word.”

Mor shook her head. “I wish we didn’t need Tamlin.” Cassian grunted in agreement. “He’s getting too attached to you.”

Azriel's eyes slid from his plate to her, carefully waiting for her response.

“I don’t think he’s attached to me,” she said truthfully. “He does think of me as a friend but I don’t think he will be allowing anyone to get too close to him for a long time.”

“Good,” Mor scoffed. “He deserves to be alone.”

“Tamlin is interested in the treaty,” she mentioned. “He’s in favor of a new treaty that protects the mortals and he is willing to attend the meetings to negotiate it.”

Azriel nodded, they all knew that from her messages to Rhysand.

Meridian continued carefully. “The day I returned, we were discussing it because of the canceled meeting. He said Beron might attend if the meeting is at the Spring Court.” Mor arched her eyebrows. “But he knows Feyre might not feel comfortable attending so he hasn’t offered to host the meeting.”

“Did you mention it to Rhysand?” Azriel questioned.

She shook her head. “I will. I do think Beron would attend if the Spring Court hosts the meeting, but I wouldn’t ask Feyre to set a foot in Rosehall.”

Mor nodded. “It’s best to just do it at the Dawn Court.”

“I’ll find a way to persuade Beron,” she picked at her food. “Maybe I should pay him a visit.”

Mor made an apprehensive noise. “You shouldn’t get too involved with the Autumn Court.”

“One of his sons is already curious about you,” said Azriel. “It's best if you stay away.”

“How exactly did you end up convincing him to join the War?” Cassian questioned, swallowing his food. “Did you go alone?”

Mor looked pensive. “Rhysand didn’t send you. He said it was your idea but he told you not to go to the Autumn Court but you went anyway.”

Meridian stole a piece of spiced meat from Cassian’s plate, he didn’t protest. “The other High Lords weren’t doing anything, so I thought I would try.”

She shoved the piece of meat into her mouth and chewed slowly, hoping they didn’t question her further. There was no use in discussing things of the past, if she told them who had told her to go to the Autumn Court, more questions would arise.

Fortunately for her, no one asked any more questions, but Meridian noticed the thoughtful look on Azriel’s face. 

…

Cassian went back to the House of Wind with her. Meridian spent the rest of the afternoon going through the books Armen had given her. There were myths regarding spell books. She read about the sea that became dangerous and wicked after a powerful spell book fell in the deep waters. There was also a myth of a sword that absorbed the power of a spells book after it was used to destroy the forbidden book. The sword became a wicked weapon that corrupted the one who held it and it was casted away, left in a cave away from civilization. 

Meridian wrote down her theory of what had happened to her to see if it made sense in writing. She believed the marble containing the spell book had broken inside her and the spell book fused together with her when she was thrown into the cauldron. The power of the spell book now lurked inside her, it had become part of her, merging with her blood, flesh and bones. If Armen was right—and she believed she was—the spells that had been written in the spell book were now stored inside her mind and it gave Meridian the ability to perform any of the spells. 

She was a living book of spells. The cauldron had taken the shadows and the pearls away from her, but it had also caused her to merge with the powerful book hidden under her skin. 

Armen had told her she needed to learn to control the power inside her because some of the spells were too dangerous and she knew that was true. Amarantha had used the spell book to weaken the High Lords. She couldn’t afford to slip and accidentally give herself away. The High Lords wouldn’t want a living spell book walking about if they knew it was possible she could use all the spells inside it. 

The only High Lord who knew the whole truth was Rhysand and he had told Armen to keep it a secret. Meridian had given Tamlin a washed down version of what had happened to her. 

Meridian didn’t think it would be too difficult to control the power inside her. So far she had only set it off without meaning to once. It was when it first manifested during her training with Cassian. The other times she had used it had been when she needed it. 

She had always been told she had an incredible mind capable of thinking and analyzing things faster than others. Meridian had been trained since she was five, her mind was an impenetrable fortress and she knew that somewhere inside it, the spells had been filed away to use when necessary. Spells wouldn’t come to her if she did not need or want them.

If she could keep Rhysand out of her mind and could keep the fortress of her mind from breaking while enduring five hundred years of torture, she could keep a spell book in check.

...

“You clean up nicely,” Meridian offered the compliment to Cassian. 

The Illyrian wore a black button up dress shirt matched with some dark dress pants and a pair of boots. His hair was half tied in a bun. Cassian was attractively handsome, it was difficult to deny with him dressed like that.

The Illyrian warrior grinned. “Like what you see?” He posed.

Meridian rolled her eyes. “And the spell is gone,” she deadpanned.

Cassian snorted and grabbed her hand, twirling her around. He whistled. “Red looks good on you.”

She was wearing the red velvet dress, the sleeves draped off the shoulders and the fabric hugged her hips and thighs. The dress ended just below her knees, leaving the rest of her legs bare. The shoes had short heels despite Mor insisting that tall heels suited it best.

Her white hair had been curled by Cerridwen, parted at the middle and left loose over her shoulders. 

Meridian eyed Cassian’s hair and tugged him towards the settee. She dropped a cushion on the floor and sat down in the settee in front of it. “Sit,” she told him.

Cassian arched an eyebrow but obeyed. “Is this one of your fantasies?”

Meridian smacked the back of his head at that. Azriel walked in just then, giving them questioning looks. The female pulled Cassian’s hair loose and parted three pieces at the side. She worked her fingers through his hair, braiding the strands of hair. She did the same to the other side and then tried them together at the middle with a bun. 

“All done,” she announced.

“We should head out,” said Azriel.

He was dressed similarly to Cassian, except his shirt was midnight blue and he wore dress shoes rather than boots. 

As they walked to the balcony, Meridian didn't even have to ask Cassian to carry her. He lifted her up as if she were a damsel in distress and flew up into the sky before descending into the city. Azriel landed right beside them and they set off into the streets of Velaris. 

When they arrived at the restaurant, everyone else was already settling into their chairs. Meridian sat next to Mor and Cassian sat at her other side. Azriel sat next to Elain, right across from Meridian. 

When the waitress left to fetch them drinks, Rhysand glanced at her and said, “Mor says you’ve decided on an apartment already.”

Meridian nodded. “We get the keys tomorrow.”

“Are you moving right away?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said uncertain. “It comes with some furniture included but we need beds and a dining table—“

“One bed is enough,” Cassian smirked.

“Pig,” Mor scoffed.

Meridian elbowed his ribs and her lips curled in satisfaction when he groaned. Across from her, Azriel shifted in his seat. 

“There is a shop that sells nice bed sheets and quilts,” said Elain. “It’s close to the shop that sells the rugs and carpets.”

Meridian smiled. “Will you come with me to have a look?”

“Of course,” Elain smiled.

"The apartment has a balcony," she added, "so I was also thinking of asking you for advice to add some potted plants."

Elain couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh wonderful! We can repot some plants from the garden so you can take back to the apartment once you're settled in."

“You should just extend your stay,” said Mor, “get settled in.”

Meridian smiled. “I’m sure Cassian can handle setting up some furniture without me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Armen. “You put too much faith on him, girl.”

Cassian pointed a finger at her but choked on the food he was chewing when he tried to speak. Meridian handed him a glass of water, shaking her head. 

Rhysand poured himself more wine. “We should make bets on how long it will take Meridian to strangle Cassian once they start living together.”

Cassian, who had finally swallowed down his food, scoffed. “I told you I’m her favorite, there’s no way we will fight.”

Mor snorted. “You’re deluding yourself.”

Cassian turned to Meridian with a smug smirk. “Aren’t I your favorite, Mer-Mer?”

“Stop calling me that,” she complained. 

The Illyrian’s smirk didn’t falter, he nudged her. “Tell them,” he insisted. “I’m your favorite.”

Meridian took a sip of wine.

“See! She can’t deny it,” he flaunted.

She couldn’t honestly deny it. Cassian was her favorite Illyrian. She felt closer to him than the others even Mor, which made her feel a little guilty. 

Rhysand looked indignant at Cassian’s claim. “Meridian and I fought together in the war. I won’t claim to be her favorite—“ he eyed Mor, “—because I value my life, but I’m definitely her favorite Illyrian.”

Meridian scoffed. “You’re lucky I fought by your side.”

“I’d like to hear stories about Rhysand during the war,” said Feyre.

Rhysand shot her an alarmed look. “There’s nothing to know.”

“From what I have been told, His Royal Darkness hasn’t changed at all,” she told Feyre. “Always the self sacrificing bastard.”

Everyone in the table nodded in agreement. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Rhysand suggested. “Having all of you agree on something terrifies me.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at him, but they did change the subject. 

After dinner and dessert, everyone complained they were too full so they decided to go on a walk in the active street filled with people enjoying the night. Mor had her arm hooked with hers and as they walked under the stars Meridian glanced over at her friends and allowed herself to feel joy in her heart. She pushed away her thoughts and worries and conflicts, most which were related to Azriel and the bond between them. She pushed it all away and allowed herself to feel happy. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> I’m posting ahead of schedule because I’m on break and because I want to get to the good part.   
> ＼(￣▽￣;)／ anddd because your comments make me happy!! 
> 
> The next few chapters are going to be intense. We will see more of jealous Azriel... Meridian is not giving him time to rest.


	17. The Unwanted Mates Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian meets Lucien in person for the first time. They immediately get along to Azriel’s displeasure. While Azriel continues to try acting normal around Meridian, she refuses to play into his pretending game and says things as they are.

Meridian had woken up early to train with Cassian the next morning. They had breakfast together and went to the apartment building to sign the contract and pick up the keys. Cassian left after that and Meridian went to the town house. Feyre was out, giving painting lessons but Elain was there. She gave her a tour of the garden, telling her the names of the flowers and plants Meridian pointed out.

Then they went to shop as they had agreed to. Elain had good taste, so Meridian simply listened to her decorative ideas. She hadn't seen the apartment, but Meridian was good at describing things in detail. Cassian probably wouldn't care for the decoration and Meridian had never really troubled herself with those things. 

They were in a shop that sold rugs and tapestries, Elain was carefully examining a patterned rug and Meridian stood next to her. It was crimson and beige, it looked like any other fancy rug she had seen. 

"It was nice of Azriel—gifting you that dress," Elain suddenly said.

Meridian blinked.

Elain glanced at her briefly and went back to looking at the rug as she spoke. "I didn't see it, but I heard Mor and Feyre telling Rhysand about a dress you had loved at the boutique."

The white haired high fae shook herself out of her frozen shock. "Yes, it was very nice of him."

Elain was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the pattern of the rug. "Are you still upset with him?"

“No,” Meridian said, but as Elain’s doe eyes turned on her again, she felt guilty for lying. 

It wasn’t entirely a lie. She had accepted his apology, but Azriel had continued with his confusing behavior after said apology and things were awkward between them. The feeling of guilt was ridiculous because Meridian had been trained to lie without remorse, but lying to Elain felt wrong. 

Elain was still looking at her as she said, “you don’t need to lie to me.” The guilt was heavy on Meridian’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t be inquiring about it in the first place but I was worried, the air between you and Azriel is very...tense.”

Meridian schooled her expression to match her words. “It was only a misunderstanding. We’re fine now but things are a little awkward.”

Elain did not seem convinced, but she nodded her head politely and said, “I see.”

She turned away, her attention back on the rug while Meridian fought a shiver, wondering if she saw more than Meridian did.

Meridian ended up buying the crimson and beige rug for the sitting room and royal blue and cream colored rug for her bedroom. Elain also helped her pick some pots for inside plants and a few small ones for the balcony. She paid the delivery fee and they told her it would all be delivered to her apartment by five. 

She walked Elain to the town house and stayed for a cup of tea and some pie. 

“So you have always been a warrior,” said Elain after Meridian told her about her life before the War.

“Yes,” she nodded, setting down her tea. “They started training me when I was five.” 

Elain looked absolutely horrified. “You were a child.”

“Lord Terron took me in after I lost my parents,” she explained, “but it wasn’t for free. He gave me a good life, an education, a position, I replayed him with my loyalty...until the War.”

“Did you have someone you loved?” Elain asked tentatively. “Did you leave someone behind when you came to fight the War?”

Meridian thought back to Arron. She wasn’t sure if she had loved him or if she had been with him because it had seemed like they should be together. Meridian had always stood besides him, she had been his shadows. The first time Arron had kissed her, the right answer had seemed to be to accept him. But perhaps it had always been her loyalty to him and her Lord. Perhaps it had been the certainty in Arron’s eyes when he asked her if he could kiss her again.

She was going to give her a vague answer when she heard someone at the door. A second later Cerridwen appeared from shadows and smoke, trailing behind her as she went to answer the door. 

“It’s almost time to prepare lunch,” Elain noted as steps approached. 

The steps did not belong to Cerridwen, whose feet were not corporal at the time. An elegantly handsome male with crimson hair and tanned skin stood behind the twin. Meridian's hand had instinctively reached for the dagger tucked in the belt around her thigh, lifting her dress a little before she stopped. He had one russet eye and one artificial eye made of gold, a nasty scar told the story of how he had lost it. 

Elain’s demeanor dramatically shifted. Her back was stiff and her gaze went to the tea cup in front of her, avoiding the eyes of the handsome male—her mate.

“You’re Lucien,” Meridian crooked her head to the side. He was definitely the one with the better looks from his brothers. She couldn’t deny they were good looking, but Lucien was attractive with elegant features and an ethereal handsomeness that they did not have. Even the scar on his face had done nothing to falter his attractive features. 

“Meridian, I suppose,” he said politely. “Rhysand told me about you.”

Meridian smiled. “Good things, I hope.”

“Yes,” he said, “all good things.”

Elain was still finding her teacup fascinating, even though Lucien’s eyes kept sliding to her even as he had addressed Meridian. Meridian eyed the potted flowers he was holding. “Those are lovely.” 

Lucien followed her gaze to the flowers he was holding, like he had forgotten they were being held by him. He cleared his throat, taking a step toward Elain, but still giving her space as if he was afraid of scaring her away. “I brought them for you… I know you have many different types in the garden. I wasn’t sure if you have these ones already so I brought them for you. I hope you like them.”

Elain’s gaze barely lifted to look at the flowers before she dropped back to the teacup. “They’re lovely, thank you.” 

Meridian felt something unpleasant stir inside her. There was an awkward tension in the room and Elain’s shoulders tensed as Lucien stepped closer so he could set the pot in the low table. The male seemed to note the change in her posture and quickly stepped back.

Elain looked at flowers on the table and forced an unconvincing smile. “I should get started on lunch,” she rose from the settee. “Meridian are you staying for lunch?”

Meridian did not need to look at Lucien to see his hurt. She rose from the armchair. “No. There are things I need to do.”

Elain nodded her head. “I must go help Nuala and Cerridwen with lunch, excuse me.”

Meridian watched Elain leave, her lips pursed and the unpleasant feeling churning in her gut. 

“I should go,” said Lucien to no one in particular and turned to leave.

Meridian followed after him, not saying anything until they stood out in the street. “Can I take you to lunch?” 

Lucien twirled around, just realizing she was behind him. He frowned. “Pardon me?”

“I asked if I could take you to lunch,” she repeated. “I’m getting hungry.”

Lucien blinked at her, crooking his head to the side. “Don’t you have things to do?”

Meridian chuckled. “Yes, you. I want to have lunch with you.” Lucien arched his eyebrows. “We haven’t been able to meet, it’s the first time we have coincided in Velaris. I think there’s a lot we could talk about since you were the Spring Court’s emissary before me.”

Lucien considered her words for a moment, looking at her carefully. Meridian doubted he was looking at her cream chiffon dress, which made her fit the image of a ghost with her white hair and silver eyes. His golden eye was probably trying to read her intentions or perhaps he could see the power beneath her skin. 

“Rhysand didn’t say you were a witch,” he mused.

Meridian gasped, dramatically touching her heart in offence. “A witch? How rude of you!”

Lucien took a step closer, his eyes focused on her. “There is a lot of power stored inside you...a lot of energy.”

“Ah,” Meridian waved a dismissive hand, “that’s just side effect of torture.”

The redhead arched an eyebrow in interest. He glanced down at her once more and his lips curled. “What’s the weapon for?” 

Meridian chuckled. “Just in case I need to gut someone.” She lifted her dress up to her knee, her hand slipping under. “I wonder, can you see under my clothes or can you only detect weapons?”

“What are you doing?” Azriel had appeared only a few feet from where they stood. 

Meridian had almost lost her balance, but her training kicked in and Lucien already had a steady hand on her back. Azriel was staring at her wide-eyed, his hands in tight fists. Meridian pulled her hand out from under her dress, her hand holding a small dagger.

“I was showing Lucien my dagger,” she stated plainly.

It became clear why Meridian had felt that unpleasant feeling earlier. It was because Elain had treated Lucien with the same cold indifference Azriel had first treated her and still sometimes did.

Lucien cleared his throat and pulled his hand away from her back. “Nice.”

Azriel was still looking at her like she had just murdered a child. She forced her features to remain unaffected as she reached her hand back into her dress to tuck in the dagger into the belt. Lucien looked away as she did. 

The shadowsinger cleared his throat, shoulders still tense as he spoke. “You weren’t in the House so I thought you might be here,” he told her, his voice tight. “Are you going in?” 

Meridian shook her head. “I’m going to lunch with Lucien.” She hooked her arm with said male. “See you later.”

Lucien nodded his head slightly towards Azriel as they turned to leave. They were silent until they were a good distance away, then Lucien turned his head to look at her questioningly. “He seemed angry.”

Meridian snorted. “We don’t get along.” 

  
  


Lucien took her to a restaurant Meridian hadn’t been to yet. It was small and they asked for a table outside. Lucien had pulled out the chair for her and all, Meridian caught a pair of females sitting a few tables away staring at the male with awe. The waitress came to take their order and left them with a basket of bread and two glasses of water. 

“A few weeks ago Rhysand told me Tamlin had made you emissary,” said Lucien. “I couldn’t believe it.”

Meridian smiled. “I was a little shocked too, it was unexpected. We were at the Autumn Court and he introduced me as such.”

Lucien tensed at the mention of the Court that had once been his home. Meridian understood the feeling, but she couldn’t compare leaving her court because the two males she thought as family couldn’t be bothered to fight a war to Lucien’s reason for leaving. His family was cruel and twisted and if they had done to her what they did to Lucien she would’ve killed more than one brother. 

“Rhysand told me about the naga,” he grunted. “Has there been any more attempts since then?”

Meridian shook her head. “Not really, but one of Beron’s sons was seen close to the border.”

Lucien seemed to appreciate her not saying  _ ‘one of your brothers’ _ . “I didn’t know you had convinced him to fight in the War five hundred years ago.”

“Ah, rarely anyone knows,” she explained, “Beron would rather not admit it.” 

The waitress arrived with their food and drinks. They were quiet for a moment as they tried their food and Meridian could tell there was something Lucien wanted to ask, so she waited.

“Are you really only helping in the Spring Court?” Lucien questioned. “Or do you intend to gain Tamlin’s trust only to destroy his court for a second time?”

The question was not unexpected. For centuries, Tamlin and Lucien had only had each other and their friendship. Tamlin had killed one of Lucien’s brothers when they had attempted to kill him. He had given him a home in his court and a position and Lucien had given him loyalty in return. It was very much like her and Lord Terron. They had more in common than their mates not wanting them.

“My purpose at the Spring Court is to protect the borders,” she replied. “I don’t intend to damage Tamlin or his Court. I’m trying to repair it.”

“Rhysand sent you,” said Lucien, “if Tamlin finds out—“

“He didn’t send me to spy,” she corrected. “He mentioned the situation and I offered to go. I might not have fought Hybern in the recent war, but I fought five hundred years ago to give mortals their freedom,” she explained. “I don’t want mortals to be killed again like in the past. Tamlin and his court is what stands between the moral lands and any fae that wants to do harm.”

Lucien nodded understandingly. 

“Tamlin knows my connection to Rhysand,” she added. “He knows I’m friends with him and that this is where I spend my time off.”

“I really could not believe that he had just let you stay,” Lucien said incredulously. 

Meridian shrugged. “I did not give him time to argue and I don’t think he had the energy in him to refuse or accept my presence.”

Lucien pushed his food around his plate. “How is he now?”

Meridian offered him a comforting smile. “He’s much better. Tamlin is aware of his mistakes and he’s trying to gain back the trust and respect from his court.”

“I’m glad,” Lucien sighed. “The last time I saw him...he was…”

“A mess?” She supplied. 

Lucien gave her a sharp look, but then nodded slowly. 

“When I first arrived he threw a bottle at me,” she remembered. “Ah, he was so grouchy.” She shook her head. “But he’s more approachable now and he’s nice to me. Maybe you should try visiting someday.”

“One day,” said Lucien, a little hopeful.

They ate their food while Lucien told her about the sentinels, who she could trust to eventually come back and who would be more difficult to gain back. He had a lot of useful information about his time in the Spring Court and it was comfortable to talk with him. So after they finished their meal they went for a walk.

“Are you close with Elain?” Lucien hesitatingly asked. “How is she doing?”

Meridian glanced at him. “We’re not very close,” she admitted. “But she’s lovely and she seems to be doing alright. We went shopping this morning.”

Lucien nodded his head. 

“Are you giving up on her?” She asked.

The redhead glanced at her, understanding that she knew they were mates. He sighed. “I do not want to push her. I decided to give her space—to distance myself. But when I saw those flowers...I wanted to give them to her.”

“I’m sure she loved them and will take care of them,” Meridian assured him. She let out a heavy sigh. “We have so much in common, we should consider forming a support group.”

Lucien arched his eyebrows. “What else do we have In common other than being the emissaries to the Spring Court?” 

Meridian hummed. “A lot. We both found a home in a Lords Court and repaid them with loyalty until they decided to take the wrong path...and we both have mates that want nothing to do with us.”

Lucien stopped walking and the expression of shock and hurt made her realize she had been too blunt. 

“But you might still have a chance,” she said quickly. 

“You too?” He smiled sadly. “What shall we call ourselves?”

Meridian grinned. “Well not something pathetic or sad,” she mused.

Lucien laughed. “Isn’t that precisely what we sound like?”

“Speak for yourself,” Meridian snorted. “I’m not moping around. I spent centuries locked up, in not letting a male crush my spirits just because he wants to pretend we aren’t mates.” The white haired female remembered the plans for the night. “We’re going dancing tonight,” she told Lucien. “Want to come?”

…

Meridian went to the apartment before five so she could be there in time for the delivery. She walked to the House of Wind after that and Rhysand was there to fly her up. Mor arrived an hour later to get ready for the night and help Meridian with the shimmery eyelids. Meridian wore the navy dress she bought with Cassian. The deep V cut made the swell of her breast show and she was not wearing a bra under, the split that went down her leg showed off her pale skin. When she complained about her paleness Mor chuckled.

“Maybe you should wear nothing but your underthings and sunbath in the Spring Court,” she grinned suggestively. “I’m sure that guard—Vane, was it?—will be delighted.”

Meridian shook her head as they walked out of her room. “I don’t want to give him false hope. I think he’s looking for more than a night of fun.”

“Why not give it a try?” Mor asked. “You said he’s handsome and pleasant.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she shrugged.

Rhysand and Azriel were waiting at the balcony for them.

“Are you letting someone take you home?” She asked her, then panic flashed across her face, probably remembering what happened last time.

Rhysand and Azriel watched her carefully, shadows looming behind the shadowsinger. Meridian ignored him, giving Mor a smile. “Maybe.”

Meridian intended to go to Rhysand, but the bastard went to Mor, grabbed her and flew off. She pursed her lips, calling him nasty things in her mind. Azriel stood in front of her, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his shirt open. 

“You invited Lucien,” he said, his voice controlled.

“Yes,” she held his gaze. “Is there a problem?”

Meridian had already told Rhysand and Mor, they had said it was fine. Rhysand said Feyre was going to try to get him to go anyway. Elain never went to Rita’s with them, so there wasn’t a problem. 

She took a step closer to Azriel and touched the buttons of his shirt. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest under her fingertips and knuckles as she buttoned his shirt all the way.

“No,” he said at last. “I just didn’t know you were friends.”

Meridian’s lips curled. “I just met him today. But we seem to get along exceptionally well—perhaps it is because we have much in common.” 

Behind Azriel, Meridian spotted an approaching figure. She stepped away from the shadowsinger as Cassian landed. “Are you heading out?” He asked.

“I can wait for you,” Meridian quickly offered.

Cassian shook his head. “I have to shower first. Go, I’ll be there in twenty.”

Meridian made a face. “Are you even going to bother with soap?”

He stuck her tongue out at her and grumbled as he walked inside. Azriel walked toward her again and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist. Meridian bregrungely wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Just fly me down,” she said. “I can winnow there.”

“That isn’t necessary,” said Azriel, his voice calmer.

Meridian shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” she said plainly. “I know how much you despise touching me.”

Azriel’s eyebrows drew together as he stared at her cold gaze, as if he was the one who was hurt by the statement. He turned his head to the side and they took off from the balcony. As she had asked, he only flew her down. Meridian stepped away from him quickly and winnowed to the town house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!! ❤️
> 
> Y’all in the previous chapters: Azriel is so stupid. He’s getting what he deserves 😡  
> Y’all after chapter 16 (and probably this one too): okay wait. Azriel is suffering 🥺😢
> 
> Lucien watching Meridian with amusement as she slips her hand under her dress to show him her dagger.   
> Azriel: what are you doing???  
> Meridian:  
> Lucien:  
> Lucien: 👁👄👁 it’s not what it looks like 
> 
> Meridian shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” she said plainly. “I know how much you despise touching me.”
> 
> Someone call a healer, we have a shadowsinger with a stab wound to the heart.


	18. Crash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner circle head out for a night of fun. Meridian wants to have a good time; Azriel needs to decide is he is going to keep on standing back and watch from the shadows or do something about the jealousy that burns hot inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t planning on updating until tomorrow but I’ll probably just be more tired than today so here I am.

They had a light dinner at the townhouse with Elain, who was acting normal as ever, pretending her mate had never been at the house to see her, pretending he was nothing to her. It made the unpleasant feeling in her gut emerge, but she pushed it down as they ate dinner and laughed. She allowed herself to enjoy the dinner and the banter, to enjoy the companion of the friends she had made in the new court that was starting to feel like home. Even if she spent most of her time at the Spring Court, that was only her job, her task and mission. It was when she was at the Night Court where she could act more like herself. 

As they left the townhouse and walked down the streets of Velaris to Rita’s, where Lucien said he would meet them, Meridian’s thoughts drifted back to the way Elain had disregarded Lucien. She knew it had been very traumatic for the middle Archeron sister to be taken away from her mortal life and forced to be reborn as a High Fae. She knew that she had been in love and engaged to marry a mortal man who hated faeries, but she couldn’t help feel angry at the way she had treated Lucien. The indifference and disregard were the same sword Azriel was using on her, but he had a second sword that was confusion. He confused her with the hints of jealousy, the way he sometimes looked at her, and the gentle touches. They were instincts driven by the bond that only served in confusing and hurting her.

“Is everything alright?” Feyre had fallen behind to talk to her.

Meridian stared ahead, not really seeing anything. “It didn’t take long for you to fall in love with Rhys, did it?”

Feyre blinked at the sudden question. Slowly, she nodded her head. “I might not have known he was my mate, but falling in love came easy when I got to know the real him.”

She glanced at the High Lady and the moment she saw the worried look on her face she sighed. “He has a big mouth, your mate.”

Feyre looked apologetic. “I caught on last time you were here.”

Meridian’s gaze shifted to Azriel, who was walking next to Cassian, to Rhysand, who seemed to be eavesdropping, his steps slow. “He was so obvious about it. What a meddlesome High Lord.”

Rhysand’s shoulders slumped and Feyre realized her mate was eavesdropping in their conversation. “Indeed,” she hissed.

The High Lord’s feet seemed suddenly capable of walking faster as he tucked his hands in his pockets and caught up to the other Illyrians. 

“Do you want to talk about it another day?” Feyre offered.

Meridian shook her head. “There isn’t anything to talk about.” Her voice was a whisper. “My mate is in love with someone else.”

Feyre stared at her with conflict raging in her eyes but she said nothing as they arrived at Rita’s. They all went inside and found Lucien in the bar, nursing a drink. Meridian slid into the stool next to him and Feyre greeted him with a hug—lingering tension still looming between them.

Rhysand suggested they find a set of tables since they were too many of them to linger around the bar. The females went and the males stayed behind to order drinks. Lucien caught her arm before she followed Mor. 

“I owe you a drink,” he said into her ear when the music was too loud. 

They had bickered over the bill at the restaurant and Meridian hadn’t allowed him to pay because she had invited him, she told him to buy her a drink later when he wouldn’t stand down and the waitress looked like she wanted to just pay the bill with her own wages. 

She smiled. “Something with strawberries.”

He nodded curtly and let go. 

“What was that?” Mor questioned when she slid in the seat next to her.

“I didn’t let him pay for lunch earlier,” she explained. “So he said he would get my drink.”

The Illyrians returned first. The drinks would be brought over. Rhysand sat at the table with Feyre and Armen and Cassian and Azriel sat with her and Mor. 

Cassian leaned over the small round table. “If you’re going home with someone let me approve of them first.”

She let out a laugh. “What are you, my mother?”

A pink mixed drink with a strawberry at the rim of the glass was placed in front of her. Lucien nodded his head slightly. Meridian smiled in return. The redhead was holding his own drink as he turned away and sat, very tensely, next to Armen. 

Cassian arched an eyebrow at her in question. 

“He owed me a drink,” she explained. 

Azriel was watching her as she pressed the glass into her lips. It was sweet but the taste of alcohol was persistent as well. 

Cassian returned to the previous subject. “Are you wearing the red lace I picked for you?”

Someone’s knee hit the table, Mor and Cassian glanced at Azriel. Meridian didn’t look at him. 

“Pig,” Mor called Cassian, as Azriel shifted on his chair. 

“Does it look like I am?” Meridian asked. 

Cassian glanced down at her chest, Mor kicked him under the table. 

Their drinks arrived and Azriel immediately sipped his. Mor wrapped her arm around Meridian’s shoulders and as Cassian took a sip of his as well. The blonde traced her finger down Meridian’s neck—who smirked in return as her finger slowly traced down her chest and shivered when it went down between her breasts. 

“She isn’t wearing anything.”

Cassian had already swallowed his drink but he still choked and Azriel hit his knee under the table again. Satisfied, Mor pulled away into her chair and grabbed her drink to click it against Meridian’s. As she drank, she risked a glance at Azriel. The shadowsinger was staring directly at her. 

How confusing he was. 

After Mor and Meridian had finished up their drinks, the blonde told the Illyrians to get them another of the same and dragged Meridian to dance. Rhysand and Feyre joined them. Two songs later, Mor was stolen away by some handsome male and another was quick to grab Meridian by the waist. He was too handsy and after a polite warning Meridian was about to kick his bone out of his leg when Cassian intervened. He gave the male a challenging look and he quickly backed away. 

“My savior,” she said dramatically.

“Would you grant me this dance?” He bowed mockingly.

Meridian accepted with a laugh and danced with him until she was thirsty. An attractive female asked Cassian to dance as Meridian slipped away to the table. Azriel and Lucien were sitting alone, holding their drinks. 

She slipped into her chair and grabbed the strawberry from her finished drink. She bit into the juicy fruit and grabbed the full glass that either Cassian or Azriel he ordered. 

Meridian looked from Lucien to Azriel, keeping her expression amused as she swallowed and lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip and held the glass in her hand. “Why so gloomy?”

Neither male replied. Meridian took another sip—a rather large one. She tried to read if there was tension between the two, but their expressions didn’t give much other than gloom. Did Lucien know Azriel smiled and spoke to Elain so softly? She drowned the rest of her drink, tipping back the glass as she swallowed all of it. 

She placed the glass on the table with a soft click and sucked the strawberry into her mouth. Azriel cleared his throat. “Do you want another?”

Meridian nodded. 

The shadowsinger rose from his chair and headed to the bar. Meridian smiled at Lucien. “Want to dance?”

He took a sip of his drink before setting it down and getting up. They slipped into the dance floor, moving past grinding bodies and found a place for themselves. Like Cassian, he was respectful of where he touched as they danced around the heated crowd. They danced a few songs and then they found Mor dancing with a different male and the four of them danced together. 

After a couple of songs, Mor wanted to keep dancing but Meridian whispered in her ear that she was going for a drink and taking a break. Lucien went with her and when they found their way to their table. Azriel was gone and Armen sat in his place. She looked bored as she sipped a glass of wine. Lucien sat next to Meridian instead of taking his previous seat next to Armen as if he feared she would bite.

Meridian smiled and she sipped her drink, Azriel had indeed gotten her another. Armen finished her wine and set the glass on the table. “I’m going home.” She stood. “I thought I would watch you play,” her lips curled briefly, “but it’s boring when there isn’t someone to dance with.”

She waved them off and walked away.

Lucien looked confused. “What was that?”

Meridian took a sip of her drink before replying. “She’s just a little cranky because Prince Varian couldn’t make it today.”

The redhead nodded his head. Meridian took another sip, wondering once again how much Armen knew about the relationship between her and Azriel—or rather the lack of one where a bond demanded for it.

The white haired female finished her drink and turned to Lucien. “Shall we go to the bar?”

They got up from their chairs and walked towards the bar. They found two empty stools and sat down. Lucien ordered for both of them. “What’s the deal with you and Azriel?”

Meridian glanced at him in question.

“He asked me where we had lunch,” he explained. “And he asked if we were friends.”

Meridian snorted. “He’s looking for my weakness so he can destroy me.” She joked.

Lucien shook his head, not taking her seriously. 

The bartender placed their drinks in front of them. Meridian smiled at the female and took a sip. She turned to Lucien then, who still awaited a serious answer. “We don’t get alone,” she repeated her previous statement. “We don’t particularly dislike each other, we simply can't seem to start a friendship.”

“Then why question me about lunch?” He frowned, taking a sip of his drink.

Meridian shrugged her shoulders. “No idea.”

They chatted over drinks about the time Lucien spent in the mortal lands. He told her about Jurian and the queen with a curse that trapped her into the form of a bird. The story tickled something in Meridian but she seemed unable to remember why. They talked about the treaty that needed to be negotiated and the queens that were silent in the continent. 

When Lucien left, he gave her a small hug and thanked her for inviting him along. Meridian kissed his cheek and told him they should have another meal together before she—or he—left Velaris.

As if he had been waiting or Lucien to leave, a dark haired male sat at the stool the redhead had occupied. He was not overly handsome but he had plenty of muscles under his dark green shirt. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Meridian curled her lip. “Sure.”

He shouted his order at the bartender, Meridian cringed. “So what’s your name?”

“Meridian.”

“Merdan?”

“Meridian,” she corrected.

“Meridian,” he repeated. “I’m Ray.”

The bartender placed their drink in front of them, he instantly took a sip. Meridian slowly lifted the glass to her lips, watching him discreetly. He had a square jaw and dark eyes. There was a small scar on his neck, poking through the collar of his shirt, Meridian wondered if he would complain about hers. She took another sip of the sweet liquor and placed down her glass as he felt his hand reach for her.

Ray caressed her jaw, his fingers were thick, she noted. “What’s a pretty thing like you still doing here? Has no one convinced you to grant them your companionship for the night?”

Meridian clicked her tongue. She was slightly tipsy, but not enough to pass his unpleasantness. “I don’t get lured easily.”

She took another gulp of her drink, she definitely wasn’t going home with him. Ray traced his finger down her arm as she placed the glass down, then he looked behind her and blinked, once, twice, and his eyes widened. 

Meridian turned around. Rhysand and Feyre stood there. “Did Lucien and Armen leave?” Feyre asked while Rhysand stared at the male next to her. 

Meridian nodded.”Armen left earlier and Lucien just left.”

“We’re going home too,” said Feyre. “Mor, Cassian and Az are still here,” she informed her. “Are you staying or do you want to go back with us?”

“I’ll stay.”

Feyre nodded, giving her a hug and a kiss to her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

The High Lady stepped back and Rhysand gave Meridian a hug while he looked behind her. Sure enough, when they pair left, the stool next to hers was empty. She was not disappointed in the slightest. 

Meridian finished off her drink and considered finding Mor or Cassian. Before she could decide, a different male occupied the vacant stool and asked the bartender to give Meridian another drink of the same. 

She managed to mask her shock for amusement as she took in the handsome male with hazel eyes that sat behind her with a pleading look. She said nothing and he was silent for a moment as well. Then he said, “you remember me? It’s Tian.”

Meridian remembered him too well but she hadn’t remembered his name. It was the blond male whose dick had gone soft at the sight of her scars. She still didn’t speak even as the bartender placed her drink down.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Tian and to her shock he sounded sincere. “I have been coming here almost every night to find you.”

“Is that so?” She said coldly and took a sip of her drink. 

“I want to make it up to you,” he said. “After you left, I went after you but I reacted too late and you were gone. I can’t stop thinking about how disgusting I was.” 

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” She mused, her lips brushing the rim of the glass before she tipped it over and took another sip.

“I’m willing to do whatever you wish,” he said. “And…” he paused, reaching into the pocket of his pants. He pulled out a small ring box, but instead a ring he pulled out a silver necklace with an amethyst teardrop. “It reminded me of you.” 

Meridian found herself a little shocked again. He sounded sincere and she couldn’t believe he had bought a necklace for her. She wondered why the amethyst necklace had reminded him of her. Arron had always said she looked good in lilacs and purples but Meridian had always loved blue. 

His hand hesitated as he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear as he had done that night. He leaned closer towards her, his fingers gently caressing her ear and his hazel eyes gazing at her pleadingly. “Will you forgive me?”

His fingers traced her jaw and lifted her chin, his eyes drawn to her lips. Meridian’s mind whirled, several possible answers jamming her at once. She had not yet decided on her answer when someone yanked Tian’s hand away. 

Meridian’s eyes dropped closed. It could’ve been Cassian, but she knew it wasn’t, she could feel Azriel, the smell of him and the presence of his shadows, and the tug at her chest was a confirmation.

“Stay away from her,” he snarled.

Meridian didn’t open her eyes even when he grabbed her hand and dragged her away. She could feel the anger rolling off him and he gripped her hand tighter as they made it outside. She opened her eyes then as he tugged her towards the alley next to Rita’s. 

“What were you thinking?” He growled. “Were you going to let him kiss you?”

“So what if I was?” She snapped.

He looked at her incredulously. “After what he did?”

“Are you in any position to judge him?” She snorted. “If you aren’t going to kiss me, then don’t meddle with who I spend my nights with.”

She pushed past him but Azriel grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He lifted her up in his arm and soared into the sky. Meridian yelped, gripping his shirt tightly as he increased his speed. Meridian didn’t look down at the city below, she looked up at the stars, her heart beating fast. They made it to the House of Wind, but even as Azriel landed in the balcony, he did not let her down to her feet.

The shadowsinger carried her all the way to her room, kicking the door open closing it with her own body as he pressed her against it. He shifted his grip on her so that he held her by her thighs and Meridian gasped as his lips crashed into hers. The kiss was a clash of teeth, demanding and desperate. His fingers pressed firmly on the flesh of her thighs and his tongue pressed inside her mouth. Azriel tasted of strong liquor and it blended with the sweet taste of strawberries from her own mouth. 

He pressed himself against her, drawing out a moan from her. She could feel him hardening through his pants, the feeling of it sent a wave of heat to her core. The shadowsinger pulled his lips away from hers, allowing her to breathe properly as he kissed down her throat. 

Azriel licked her collarbone and tried pulling the strap of her dress down with his teeth. Meridian wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to let go of her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her firmly against him and pulled down the straps of her dress with his free hand.

“Lovely,” he said, voice husky, before taking her breast into his mouth. 

Meridian gasped, pressing her head against the door and tangling her fingers through his dark hair. Meridian felt him moan around her breast and he sucked around her nipple. He grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin and gently bit her nipple. Meridian hit her head against the door as she arched her back in response, heat pooling on her belly. 

Azriel held her firmly, backing up from the door and starting towards her bed. His knees hit the bed and they toppled over. Azriel’s eyes were brown pools mixed with raw honey, vibrant in the darkness of the shadows that surrounded them. He pressed his lips over hers again, the kiss was desperate but less aggressive than the last. His fingers found her breast, tracing the shape of it and rubbing over her nipple. 

The shadowsinger moved his lips expertly against hers and then trailed kisses down her jaw and neck. 

“Why did you let them touch you?” He croaked, kissing her neck and trailing his fingers down her dress. “They don’t deserve you. They don’t deserve to touch you or even look at you.”

Meridian’s lips parted as he nudged her thighs. She unwrapped her legs from around him, placing her feet on the bed and parting her legs to make room for him. Azriel’s fingers trailed down the opening of her dress, caressing the inside of her thigh.

“They aren’t good enough for you,” Azriel said desperately, “why did you let them touch you? Why do you let  _ me _ touch you?”

His thumb rubbed her where her body needed it the most, pressing down with just the right pressure and feeling her wetness over her lace panties. 

Azriel breathed in against her neck and he sounded devastated when he spoke. “I am not good enough for you Meridian.”

The coil of lust burning inside her belly died with a freezing cold that spread through her body as Azriel withdrew from her. He looked completely devastated, staring down with heartbroken eyes. 

“Azriel,” her voice trembled. It felt like she had said his name for the first time.

He climbed off her, retreating from the bed with a pained expression. She sat up, fixing her dress with shaky hands but Azriel didn’t give her time to speak, he left her room, Meridian stumbled after him but the hallway was nothing but darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> I promise it will get better!


	19. Girl Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian wakes up from a nightmares. Cassian and the silent shadows in her room are there to comfort her.
> 
> The females have a girls night, alcohol is in involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, mention of r*pe

_ She lay in the lumpy mattress of her cell, her eyes unfocused and her mind locked away. Meridian refused to see what was being done to her. She shielded herself inside her mind as sweaty hands held her down by the arms and another set of equality disgusting hands parted her legs open. Meridian’s eyes were open, but she refused to see them. Her ears were fully functioning but she refused to hear their laughs and grunts and moans. She faded and faded inside her mind until there was nothing but silent darkness, shadows blanketing her body and a distant blue star that shone in the distance.  _

The loud kick to her door forced her body awake. Meridian was covered in sweat, her throat raw and her face wet with tears. She let out a nasty sob, clutching the covers to her chest. Azriel cupped her face with his scarred hands. His face looked completely terrified and desperate as he tried to soothe her trembling body. “You were dreaming. You were having a nightmare.”

Another violent sob shook her body because it wasn’t a nightmare but a memory. Her shaky hands pulled his away from her. How could he touch her when she was so dirty?

“Meridian,” he called her name softy. “It was only a nightmare, you’re safe.”

Meridian shook her head and pushed him away from her. Cassian stood behind Azriel, his expression wild terror and Mor stood at the doorway, frozen. She hadn’t heard them arrive. They were all looking at her like they knew something terrible had happened to her. 

She pushed the covers off her body and darted across the room to lock herself in the bathroom. She fell against the door and wrapped her arms around her knees, pressing her lips over them to try to muffle her sobs.

Meridian could hear them on the other side of the door, trying to talk her into opening the door for them. Azriel could probably slip inside with his shadows, but he didn’t. Cassian barked at them to get out and she could hear Mor arguing, eventually the door of her room closed and she could only hear Cassian.

“Meridian,” he said, “open the door, please.”

Meridian scrambled to her knees and unlocked the door. Cassian breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The Illyrian knelt in front of her, hesitating to touch her.

“I feel dirty,” she sobbed. “They—they touched me and they—they—and I just—I couldn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s eyes filled with tears. “No one will hurt you like that ever again.”

He carefully wiped her tears and when Meridian cried and leaned towards him he pulled her to his chest and held her tightly. Meridian sobbed, her whole body shaking against Cassian. A wave of disgust spread through her, not from Cassian’s touch but from the memory of the guards who had soiled her. How could she even think it was alright for her to want Azriel when she was dirty and tainted. 

“I’m dirty,” she sobbed, her nails dragging along her thighs. 

Cassian pulled her hands away and held them to his chest. “You’re not,” he choked. “Don’t say that.”

She tried to pull away from him but he held her tightly. Meridian felt a tug at her chest but she couldn’t see anything from her tear clouded eyes. Her skin itched as another wave of disgust surged through her. 

“I—I need a bath,” she cried as she tried to pull away from Cassian. “I need a bath. Please. Please. Please. I feel disgusting.  _ Please _ .” 

Cassian let go of her. “Alright, alright, I—I’ll fill the bath.”

Meridian hugged her knees, her sight blurred by her tears. She stared at Cassian’s blurred figure as he started the bath. She wiped her eyes, glancing around the room trying to spot any lingering shadows but it was difficult as tears continued to pour down from her pale eyes. The bathroom was already dark enough for her to attempt to locate any unusual shadows, she didn’t know what time it was but the sun had not risen in the sky yet.

Cassian bent over and picked her up, gently lowering her into a lukewarm bath that soaked through her sleep clothes. “I’ll be right outside,” Cassian assured her. 

He left the room hesitantly, closing the door gently. Meridian sat in the bathtub for a while, not moving at all, simply sitting there with her silk sleep clothes and staring at the door. The sun rose in the sky, the light filtering through the small round window. 

Meridian stirred then, no longer having the comfort of the night shadows to shield her tears. She removed her wet clothes and squeezed soap into a sponge, scrubbing her skin until it turned red. She cried silently, grieving what she had so desperately tried to keep locked away in her mind like it had never happened. 

It had happened and now she had screamed, cried, and sobbed about it. She had to get it all out so she could get over it. It was how she was trained, to let go of everything that made her weaker, to manage and control her feelings. 

She scrubbed her skin harder, skin reddening under the harsh handling. When she was done, Meridian slipped into a bathrobe, tying it around her waist before stepping out to the bedroom. Cassian was sitting next to the door and immediately rose to his feet. 

“Thank you,” her voice was raw, “for staying.”

Cassian swallowed, looking at her not with pity but with worry. “What do you need?”

“I’m alright,” she croaked. 

Cassian shook his head, briefly going into the bathroom to fetch a towel. He stood behind her and gently tried to dry her dripping hair. 

“Did—did they hear something?” She whispered.

Cassian understood her question. “No. We heard you screaming. Azriel got here first, Mor and I rushed here but they don’t know—they don’t know what your nightmare was about.” 

Meridian felt a little relieved. She turned around to face Cassian and kissed his cheek. “I’m tired,” she whispered, “I’m going back to bed, you should too.”

“I can stay with you,” he offered. 

Meridian shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Cassian hesitated so Meridian took the towel from his and pushed him towards the door. The Illyrian gripped the doorway.

“I am really alright now,” Meridian insisted. “I’m just tired.”

The Illyrian ran a hand through his hair. “Shout if you need me.”

Meridian nodded her head and clicked her door shut. She pressed her back against the door and sighed, closing her eyes. She needed to sleep and wake up with her fighting spirit fully restored. Meridian had always been good at managing her emotions, this was no different. She couldn’t let it be. She was strong and fierce and nothing ever weighed her down if she did not allow it to. 

When the first member of her guard had died, Meridian had locked away her emotions and ordered around the other guards to finish the mission they were on. She had not been able to rest until two days later and then she broke down crying. She cried all night for the warrior she had lost under her command. The following morning she had gathered the guard and they had grieved with words and memories of their lost friend. Then Meridian was able to turn that grief away and resume her work as usual.

Pushing herself off the door, Meridian let the towel drop and kept the robe as she slipped under the covers. She closed her eyes and instantly felt her weariness lull her to sleep. It was when she was in the line between distant awareness and unconsciousness that she felt the room darken and a figure slip into her bed right at her side. Her first thought was to tell Cassian she didn’t need him to watch over her sleep, but her mind sleepily whispered that she knew it wasn’t Cassian. 

Meridian felt the last knots of tension release form her body and she relaxed completely under the arms that embraced her. 

...

When Meridian woke up she was not alone. Her hand was warm from being held and now that her panic and fear were gone, her mind was clear and alert, she knew before she even opened her eyes who was the person next to her. 

“Why are you here,” she rasped. 

“I am sorry about last night,” he said, his hand tightening around hers.

“For a spymaster, you sure make things difficult,” she said, trying to keep her voice plain. “Shouldn’t you be good at handling the unexpected?”

“There is no easy way for this,” his voice sounded strained and Meridian remembered the pained look on his face the previous night when he pulled away from her. 

“There is,” she put confidence in her tone. “If you do not want this bond then don’t think about it. The more you do, the more it will make you think you want it. It’s rather simple.”

“Is it that simple for you?” He asked, sitting up and letting go of her hand.

Meridian sighed, sitting up as well, running her fingers through her tangled half-dry hair. “You make it difficult for me.” She finally said, noticing the way he turned away his face and his fingers twitched at the statement. “I want you, but if you don’t want me I will keep those feelings to myself. Usually, I am good at reading people’s thoughts and feelings—but with you, I can’t. You act like you want nothing to do with me, then you do the opposite—you act like you care for me, you look at me like you want me and then you pull away from me and confuse me.” Azriel had turned to look at her again, his expression conflicted. “So no, it isn’t that simple for me. It could be, if you weren’t so confusing.”

“You shouldn’t want me,” he said, his eyes gazing down at his hands. “I don’t know why we were paired together, but I am not good for you.”

“Is it because you’re in love with Mor?” Meridian asked. “Or is it Elain now? I can’t tell anymore.”

Azriel rose from the bed and left the room.

…

Mor had asked her several times if she was sure she still wanted to do girl’s night several times. She didn’t know what it was that haunted Meridian’s dreams, but apparently her screams had jolted them awake and they thought she was surely being murdered. But Meridian felt fine. All the fear and terror she had felt when she woke up from the nightmare—from that memory—was gone. She had trained with Cassian for two hours to get rid of her anger for allowing herself to explode the way she had. She should’ve grieved what happened before the memory became insuppressible.

Meridian had not seen Azriel since he left her room. 

It was four and Meridian wore the dust pink satin cowl neck dress and was looking for the shoes she was going to wear. Mor had gone to change her dress, it was the third time she had changed it. Feyre and Elain had arrived with Rhysand. 

Elain was in the sitting room, waiting for them, but Feyre was sitting in her bed, watching her. She had silently watched her do her hair, her hands restless, her lips beginning to move only to stop before she could form any words.

“Do you want to ask me about Azriel?” Meridian finally asked what was so clear Feyre was trying to say.

The High Lady looked startled for a moment, but she eventually nodded. “Have you—have you talked to him about the mate bond?”

Meridian slipped her feet into the heeled shoes. “He’s very confusing, Azriel. Sometimes he completely ignores me and then there are times when I catch him looking at me. There are times when he’s gotten jealous—last night at Rita’s for example.

Feyre’s eyes asked her to elaborate.

“He didn’t want me to go home with someone so he brought me back.” She explained. “He kissed me but I think it’s the bond—it makes him feel jealous and it makes him think he wants me because we are supposed to be mates.”

Feyre shook her head. “I think he truly cares about you.” Meridian was shaking her head at her words but the High Lady stood, looking confident. “I heard him talking to Elain about you. I asked Elain, but she said it was not for her to say.” Meridian was about to argue that Azriel probably liked Elain more than her but Feyre quickly continued. “He sneaks into the Spring Court.”

Meridian stopped in disbelief. “What?”

“He sneaks into the Spring Court at least once a week to see you,” said Feyre and Meridian could read the honesty from her words. She was not making it up. “Rhysand has warned him not to because if he gets caught…”

Meridian shook her head in denial. “It’s the bond—“

Feyre grabbed both of her hands. “Haven’t you noticed that he doesn’t look at Mor the same way he used to? Whenever you are in the room, his eyes are on you. He tries to hide it, but sometimes he can’t help himself. Besides, the bond didn’t force me to fall in love with Rhysand and it hasn’t forced Elain to fall in love with Lucien.”

Meridian didn’t know what to say. She did not get to because Mor opened the door, wearing a signature crimson dress. “Ready to go ?”

…

They had gone shopping first, starting with some furniture for the apartment. Mor, Feyre, and Elain helped her pick a bed. She ended up getting an oak bed that was far too big for her alone, but Armen had whispered that she needed a bed large enough to fit wings. Meridian told her she had no idea what she was talking about but bought a large bed nonetheless. She had also bought some practical everyday items and two matching armchairs for the sitting room. 

The furniture would be delivered in two days and the smaller items could have been delivered that same evening but since they planned to be out until unholy hours of the night, she arranged them to be delivered the following day. 

After the furniture shopping, they went shopping in clothing boutiques. They had all ended up buying one thing or another. Meridian bought two more simple summer dresses, Elain had insisted she bought a pink one because the one she wore at the moment suited her perfectly. 

Mor took them to a small restaurant for dinner, outside, a few females sat in round tables, eating and sipping tea while others had tall wine glasses. Once they went inside Meridian realized there were no males, not even in the staff. Females of all shapes and sizes chatted comfortably or laughed a little loudly, holding cute tea cups or colorful glasses of alcoholic beverages.

“No males today, ladies,” said Mor once they had been given a table. “Tonight is about us.”

“This is nice,” said Feyre, glancing around the lovely decorated place. Elain and Meridian nodded in agreement. Feyre smiled as she remembered something. “The Illyrian babies are under the impression that we were out to seduce some poor males—or out for murder.”

Armen snorted. “Is that what they think we do when they’re not around? We deserve a nice dinner every once in a while without Cassian making me question why I haven’t strangled him or drowned him in the Sidra.”

“Cassian isn’t that bad,” Meridian muttered.

Armen grunted. “You will retract your words after a week of living together, girl.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and took their orders. Elain was the only one who ordered a non-alcoholic drink. Meridian couldn’t help but remember what Feyre had told her before they left every time she looked at Elain. What could Azriel and Elain possibly talk about that involved her? 

Remembering what she said about Azriel and Elain talking about her made her remember the other piece of information Feyre had given her. Azriel sneaked into the Spring Court at least once a week to check in on her. He likely did it in the evening when shadows could hide him more easily. And then there was the fact that Azriel didn’t check in on her because Rhysand ordered him to, he did it despite the High Lord’s warning not to. 

Azriel was confusing indeed. This was different than him checking in when she was hurt or when there was something to report. She could understand an instinctual need to make sure she was alright when she was hurt, but if Azriel didn’t feel anything for her why would he risk sneaking into the Spring Court just to see her when there was nothing amiss.

“What are you worrying about?” Mor’s question pulled her out of her thoughts. 

She shook her head dismissively. “Nothing important,” she lied with ease.

“She’s already questioning her decision,” Armen provided.

“Leave poor Cassian alone,” said Feyre, smiling slightly. 

“It’s just shocking,” Mor sighed. “I never expected Meridian to get so close with Cassian.” The blond glanced at her with a pout. “I’m a little jealous.”

Meridian chuckled. “There’s nothing to be jealous about, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Mor huffed. “You spend so much time with him, if anything I thought you would get along with Azriel.”

Armen’s lips curled and Feyre took a sip of her drink. Meridian schooled her expressions not to react, she simply shrugged. “Friendships aren’t planned, I spent a lot of time training with Cassian and I rarely see Azriel.”

“You and Azriel have much in common,” said Mor. “Rhys always wanted the two of you to meet back then.”

Meridian lifted her drink to her lips. “Perhaps,” she took a small sip, “we could've been partner spies if I was still a shadowsinger. But now he’s just the memory of what I was.”

She hadn’t meant to say the last part and it startled her that she had let it slip. Mor frowned and Meridian was thankful when the waitress arrived with their food, removing the attention from her. She finished up her drink and asked for another. 

Meridian had gotten used to not having the shadows around her long ago because even before the cauldron, the faebane and suppressing spells on her cell did not allow her to call for them or take comfort in them. When she escaped, she had tried calling for them, but her last sliver of hope vanished when no shadows came to her. The cauldron had really taken them away. She had grieved them, but when she had first seen Azriel, shadows surrounding him, she had longed for them desperately. 

The waitress returned with her new drink and Mor asked her to keep them coming.

“Meridian and Azriel are very compatible,” Elain said suddenly, her tone was as if she were stating the stars belonged in the sky. 

Meridian sipped her drink, aware of Armen’s smirk and Feyre doing her best to not react and give it away. Mor arched an eyebrow. “Even Elain agrees,” she said, missing the meaning of her words, “you could be the best of friends.”

Meridian suppressed a sigh of relief, but the feeling was short lived when Armen snorted. “I don’t think that is what Elain meant.” She was cutting her meat into tiny pieces. “I think she was trying to say that they’re sexually compatible.”

Feyre choked on the bite of food she had just shoved into her mouth to look busy. Mor blinked. “Azriel and Meridian...sexually compatible?”

“That’s not—“ Meridian glared at Armen. “I’m sure Elain did not mean that.”

Elain was blushing slightly. “I meant to say that Azriel and Meridian are compatible in a lot of ways, not specifically...I think their souls are very compatible.”

Mor appeared to be considering it. Meridian shook her head dismissively, controlling her features to look as if it was the most ridiculous idea she had ever heard. She felt a little guilty for hiding it from Mor because she seemed to be the only one who didn’t know. She had never meant for anyone to find out, but Rhysand had a big mouth so now Feyre knew. She didn’t know how much Armen knew and if she had figured it out from simply observing. As for Elain, perhaps it was because she was a seer or because Azriel was so close to her he had told her. It was possible that he had confided in her because he did not want Meridian as a mate the same way Elain did not want Lucien. 

The thought sent her hand straight for the colorful drink in front of her. “We would be awful for each other,” she said after taking a generous sip. “How did we even end up talking about this?”

“Actually,” Mor said with newfound amusement, “I think you two would work out.”

Meridian groaned. “Can we not talk about this?”

Fortunately, they dropped it. Feyre shifted the conversation to a different topic to her relief. 

…

The waitress had made sure to keep the drinks coming. After several fruity drinks, they had switched to wine. Elain had only drank two or three glasses and Armen didn’t seem to get even slightly buzzed no matter how much she drank. 

Even after dessert, their wine glasses continued to be filled and emptied. Mor suggested they go dancing, but Armen and Elain declined and Feyre didn’t look like she could coordinate her two feet.

“The other night at Rita’s,” Meridian told them when she, too, was more than tipsy. “Tian was there.”

“Who’s that?” Mor frowned, her lipstick was still flawless. 

“The male I went home with the other time,” Meridian slurred. “He apologized and wants to make up for it.”

Mor snorted. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I hope, girl, that you did not accept his apology,” said Armen, right before hissing at Feyre when she tilted her wine glass and spilled a little. She took the glass away from her and Elain passed her a glass of water.

Meridian sipped from her glass of wine. Her face was already flushed, it was probably time to stop drinking. 

“You should’ve told me,” Mor paused and hiccuped, “I would’ve hung his balls out in the street.”

Elain looked a little scandalized, but she nodded her head ever so slightly—or perhaps Meridian’s vision was blurring, that was also possible. 

Mor suddenly frowned. “Is that—you left before me and Cassian—Idian you didn’t go with him, did you?”

Meridian finished up her wine and rested her chin on her palm. “No, Azriel saw us and he told him to back off.”

“Az?” Mor asked. “How did he know it was the same male?”

Meridian’s cheek was warm against her palm, she definitely should stop drinking, but she reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself more. She did not answer the blonde until she had drowned down two sips. “He saw me leave with him last time,” her words were slurred. “He’s nosy.” 

Feyre rested her chin on her cupped palms. “He was watching out for you,” she mumbled. 

“Are you falling asleep?” Armen huffed, watching Feyre’s heavy eyelids drop. 

“It is very late,” said Elain, “and I think you all had too much to drink.”

“This place doesn’t close until three,” Mor waved her hand, “we’re good.”

“If you keep drinking,” Elain’s voice was patient, “you will not be able to walk back home.”

“We can winnow there,” Meridian said, sipping wine.

“Try it in your current state,” Armen scoffed, “your limbs will end up in different places.”

Mor and Meridian looked at each other quietly for a moment before they bursted in a fit of giggles. Armen groaned, massaging her temples while Elain asked for the bill.

  
  


They somehow all made it to the town house in one piece, with Armen’s threats to drown them in the Sidra as motivation to keep walking. When Rhysand answered the door, Feyre, Mor, and Meridian were giggling hysterically and Armen looked very annoyed with them as she left. Elain helped Mor and Meridian to the sitting room and Rhysand held Feyre’s waist, looking very amused.

“You must have given Armen a difficult time,” he said, his lips smiling, “she looked ready to murder you.”

“Drown us in the Sidra!” The three of them said in unison and startled giggling. 

Rhysand shook his head. “Elain, could you help Morrigan to bed?”

Elain nodded. 

“No,” Mor protested. “Rhys have a drink with us.”

Rhysand laughed. “You’re one drink away from passing out.”

“You’re not fun,” Mor booed.

Elain was already helping Mor away and Feyre had fallen asleep at the armchair. Rhysand smiled down at his mate, the expression so tender Meridian turned away. She laid down on the couch, her head spinning a little. She heard Rhysand carry Feyre away and he took a while to return.

“Meridian,” Elain whispered, “there’s a room where you can sleep—“

“There isn’t,” Rhysand cut in. 

Meridian opened her eyes. 

“The beds are broken,” Rhysand stated with a troubled look that even with all the alcohol in her system Meridian could tell it was fake. “I’ll fly you to the House of Wind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Azriel walked out her room after Cassian made him and Mor leave but he blended in the shadows immediately because he didn’t want to leave her alone.
> 
> Rhysand: The beds are broken  
> Elain: I— (•ิ_•ิ)??  
> Meridian:   
> Rhysand: I’ll fly you to the House of Wind (where Azriel is)  
> Meridian: (≖︿≖✿)
> 
> It gets better in the next chapter!! I’m excited for your to read it!!


	20. Stumbling in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian is trying to find her way around the House of Wind, it’s dark and she is drunk, it is not going very well until Azriel find her.

She stumbled in the dark, though she could see fairly well when sober, her legs and eyes didn’t have much coordination at the moment. She kicked whatever had gotten in her way and ended up stumbling to the floor. She cursed loudly, at Rhysand for dumping her in the darkness of the House of Wind, and at the floor for not being gentle with her knees. 

Meridian tried to grab onto something but there was someone already grabbing for her. “How much did you drink?”

It was a question that didn’t necessarily demand an answer. Firm, muscled arms lifted her up and Azriel carried her through the dark of the House. “Why are you here?” She found herself asking.

“I live here,” Azriel sounded amused and she didn’t like it one bit. Was he laughing at her? 

“Where’s Cassian?”

Azriel sighed. “Sleeping. We drank too, he fell asleep.”

Meridian made a sound of disappointment. “I wanted to drink a little more with him.”

“I think you had enough,” Azriel said, his breath tickled her neck. She shivered.

They arrived at her door and the shadowsinger managed to get it open while he held her. He walked inside, watching her head, and closed the door behind them. He gently lowered her into the bed in a sitting position. Meridian let herself fall back, her legs dangling from the bed as Azriel removed her shoes.

The shadowsinger pulled her up and lay her down correctly on the bed, pulling the covers over her body. Meridian kicked them off immediately and sat up.

“The dress will get wrinkled,” she said seriously and lifted her hands up.

Azriel looked puzzled. “What—“

“The dress,” she flapped her hands. “I don’t want it to get wrinkled.”

Azriel stared at her and Meridian was about to complain when he finally touched the hem of the dress, his fingers gently brushing her skin. He lifted the silky fabric up her thighs, his fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps over her skin. 

“I need you to lift your hips,” he whispered in her ear.

Meridian’s drunken blood buzzed under her skin. She lifted herself off the bed just enough for Azriel to pull the dress up her waist. His fingers trailed up her body as he pulled it all the way off. The shadowsinger quickly turned away and placed the dress on top of the chair in front of the vanity. 

When he turned back to her, Meridian still sat at the edge of the bed. Azriel shut his eyes. “Where are your sleeping clothes?”

Meridian hummed uninterested. “It’s hot.”

“It isn’t,” he said, his voice strained as he walked over and pulled the covers over her body. “It’s the alcohol.” 

She shrugged them off and smirked at the frustrated look on his face. It was nice to see him irritated, he irritated her all the time.

“You have to take these off,” she traced the round sticky material taped over her breast, only covering her nipples. 

Even in the dim room, Meridian could see him swallow. “What is that?”

“Take them off,” she whined. Azriel’s hands twitched at his sides. “You’ve seen them before.”

Azriel shook his head. “Leave them—“

He choked off the rest of his sentence when Meridian grabbed his right hand and placed it over her breast. She sighed, heat licking at the pit of her stomach. His hands were rough and calloused, but they felt good wrapped around her breast. 

Entranced, Azriel knelt down in front of her, his fingers twitching a little as he gently removed the round sticky material that had covered her nipple. His eyes lingered on her breast before he turned to the other, repeating the process. He dropped the rounded stickers but his palms lingered. Meridian grinned, grabbing one of his palms and bringing his thumb to her lips. He gasped as she sucked his thumb, making sure to wet it properly before guiding it to her nipple. 

Azriel didn’t need much guidance, he rubbed his thumb over her nipple and cupped her other breast with his palm, Meridian let out a satisfied sigh.

“Lovely,” Azriel whispered, his breath ghosting over her hardened nipple, making her shiver. 

Meridian threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned as Azriel sucked the nub. Her blood burned under her skin with desire, her already clouded mind now overwhelmed with lust. Azriel dropped his palms to her thighs and lifted her up effortlessly. He lowered her on the bed, his body hovering over hers.

“Az,” she said urgently, “tell me, tell me that you want me.”

He kissed up her chest to her neck and whispered in her ear. “I do. It’s selfish, but I do.”

All Meridian heard was _ I do _ . She pulled him down to her lips, her fingers tangled on his dark hair as her lips moved over his. His lips responded to her, moving in sync with hers—as best as he could follow with the sloppiness of her drunken coordination. Azriel broke away from her lips when she needed to breathe. Meridian made a sound of protest despite being out of breath. The shadowsinger kissed her chin and down her neck, shushing her complaints. Meridian made a satisfied hum of a sound as he kissed down her chest again. He placed a kiss over her heart, she opened her eyes to see him kissing down her body, Azriel stopped then.

“You’re very drunk,” he mumbled against her skin.

Meridian was very drunk, but she did not admit it. “I’m not.”

Azriel shook his head, his hair brushing her skin. “You are.”

He started pulling away but Meridian wrapped her legs around his waist. “You always do this,” she couldn’t keep the hurt out her voice or hold the tears that filled her eyes. “You—why do you make me think you want me and then push me away?”

She crossed her arm over her eyes but Azriel pulled it away and kissed the tears running down the sides of her face. “I’m staying,” he said, his voice soothing. “I am staying here, with you.”

He nudged her legs gently and Meridian unwrapped herself from him. She didn’t believe him. She was drunk but not stupid. He always left. So she covered her eyes with her arm and waited to hear the click of the door. The bed shifted, and she felt him get off. She heard movement around the room, the creak of the armoire doors and the shuffling of clothes. A minute later, the bed dipped. Azriel pulled her arms away from her face again and fitted her head through a shirt. Meridian blinked at him, he had found her a loose shirt and was now guiding her arms through the shirt sleeves. He pulled down the shirt, it covered down her thighs. 

Azriel got off the bed then and she was sure he was walking out the door, but he went into the bathroom instead. Meridian sat up, staring at the door, wondering if there was a secret way out. She blinked several times when Azriel did return from the bathroom, she had drank way too much and perhaps she was seeing what she wanted to see. The shadowsinger sat at the edge of the bed, lifting a wet cloth to her face. The cloth was lukewarm as he dabbed away the mess on her face. She probably looked unsightly. 

The corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched. “How much did you drink?”

“A little,” she said, an obvious lie. 

He shook his head at her, but his mouth was still twitching at the corners into a smile. Meridian wanted to keep looking at it, but her eyes were starting to feel heavy. Azriel dropped the wet cloth somewhere in the room and laid down next to her, pulling the covers over their bodies. Meridian felt a wave of warmth spread over her, different from the lust she had felt minutes before. Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist and Meridian did the same, tightly gripping the back of his shirt so he wouldn’t leave once she fell asleep. She felt the shift of his wings as one of them stretched around her as if shielding her body and thought it was difficult to pull memories from her mind when she was drunk and sleepy, she remembered the way his wing had stretched over her the night he had stayed at the Spring Court.

Her grip on his shirt remained firm even after she fell asleep. 

…

When Meridian woke up, it was not very pleasant. Her head was pounding and her mouth and throat were dry as sandpaper. She pressed a palm to her throbbing head and the other to the empty spot next to her, warm but unoccupied. Meridian didn’t allow herself to cry. She dragged herself to the bathroom instead, washing her face—though the makeup had already been wiped off—and rinsed her mouth, staring at her face in the mirror as she did. 

She splashed cold water on her face once more and pressed the tips of her fingers into her closed eyes for a moment, bottling herself up so she wouldn’t cry. Letting out a large breath, she grabbed the hand towel and dried off her face. Meridian noticed then the shirt she wore, it was a black tunic shirt with silvery thread, it wasn’t hers, it was the shirt she had worn once when her back was healing. 

She filled up more of the shirt now that she was at a healthy weight, but it was still loose and long, reaching enough to cover most of her behind. Meridian walked out of the bathroom, and as she did, the door of her bedroom opened and Azriel walked in.

He stared at her and she stared at him and then he spoke. “You’re awake,” he held a glass of juice and used his wing to push the door close. Meridian’s heart leaped in her chest. “I thought you’d likely wake up thirsty and with a headache.”

He crossed the room towards her, his eyes drifting down to her bare legs, shadows covered his ears and the high of his cheekbones. 

“Sit,” he gestured to the bed and Meridian obeyed because she didn’t think she could speak. “I mixed in some medicine,” he pressed the glass into her hand.

Meridian drank it, all of it because her head hurt and she was thirsty and because Azriel had come back and she didn’t know what to do or how to react. He took the glass from her and placed it on the nightstand. 

Meridian looked into his eyes then and she made her features into cold indifferent stone, but it was her voice cracking that betrayed her. “I thought you left, again.”

Something flashed across his eyes and his eyebrows pulled together, he looked devastated. “I’m not—I didn’t. I’m here.”

He let himself fall into his knees in front of her, Meridian didn’t move as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face on her stomach. With his wings stretched wide, the darkness that clung to him, and his crestfallen face, he looked like a prince of shadows begging for forgiveness. 

“I told you—I won’t leave,” his voice was a little muffled, but she could hear and feel his words. “I—I am not good for you Meridian, but I can’t—I don’t want to be away from you.”

Meridian’s fingers hesitated, slowly touching her fingertips to his head. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she felt him sigh against her, his arms tightening around her. “Why aren’t you good for me? You’re everything I want. You are my match, even if I am not what I used to be.”

“You are more,” he said. “You are more than I could ever dream to deserve. I thought it was best if I stayed away from you, but I want you when you’re here and when you’re not. But if I am hurting you more by staying away, then I won’t leave your side.”

“Do you truly want to?” She asked, lifting his chin to look at his hazel eyes. “I don’t want you to be with me because I want you. If you are going to be with me it has to be because you want me too.”

“I do,” he whispered. Meridian touched his face, traced his eyebrow and his nose, caressed his cheekbones. Azriel’s face relaxed, finally dropping the look of concern and devastation. She watched his throat bob as he prepared to speak. “Don’t accept the mate bond yet.” Her hand stilled at his jaw. “I want you to be sure. I want you to know who I am before you accept the bond.”

Meridian wanted to protest. But she nodded instead. She did need to know more about him so she could understand why he believed he did not deserve her. 

“You should go back to sleep,” he said softly. “It’s early and you must still be tired.”

Meridian nodded again. The medicine was working to relieve her pain, but it still wasn’t completely gone and she did feel tired. She slid over and Azriel pulled the covers over her bare legs. 

Azriel climbed over the bed and laid down next to her. Meridian held his hand and turned over so that her back was pressed against his chest. Azriel pressed his face against the crook of her neck and slid their intertwined hands under her pillow. Meridian closed her eyes, feeling his heartbeat. 

She couldn’t look at his face because her heart felt like it would implode any moment. She wanted to kiss him and she wanted to cry and she wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to hide his scars from her. Meridian held his hand tighter under the pillow, Azriel’s wing curled around them and she felt safe and happy and sad at the same time. 

Azriel had his scars, not just the ones that marred his hands but the ones in his soul. It killed Meridian that they made him feel unworthy of love. Meridian’s scars ran deep, deeper than the scars on her back. It was her who probably didn’t deserve Azriel, but she was selfish and she didn’t want to let go of him. 

For decades, she had never given a thought to what she wanted. She had trained, followed orders, and lived for her Lord. The first decision she had made for herself, for her own beliefs, had been to fight in the War. That night when she left Vallahan, she promised herself that from then on she would do what she wanted and please her own desires. But those five hundred years locked in a cell had robbed her everything. 

Her soul had been broken and tainted and perhaps she did not deserve Azriel, but she wanted him and for once she did not want to hold back. Just like she not let Lord Terron and Arron keep her from fighting in the War, she would not let the torture she endured hold her back from going after what she wanted. Meridian was not going to let what happened to her keep her away from her mate. The King had taken five hundred years of her life and the cauldron had taken her shadows and pearls, she was not letting Hybern take anything else from her. 

Meridian fell asleep in the soothing darkness, her fingers interlocked with Azriel’s, her back pressed against his chest, and his wing curled around her.   
  


She dreamt of walking through a bridge made of shadows. Meridian trusted the bridge without a second thought, she walked across it, her feet blurred by darkness. When she reached the other side she found a boy with haunted hazel eyes. He sat in the corner of a cell, his wings tucked behind him as two figures hovered over him, dumping a jar of water on top of the boy. Rage flared in Meridian’s veins. She tried to lunge forward, her hands itching to yank them away from Azriel. But her feet would not move. The ground under her sunk and Meridian fell fifty feet down a well, water rising up her neck.

  
  


Fortunately, she did not jump awake from the desperation of her dream. Azriel gently woke her up, whispering her name. Meridian stirred, her hand was no longer being held, the shadowsinger was tracing his fingers up and down her spine, she shivered when his fingers traveled upwards and touched the nape of her neck. 

“I must go do some check-ins,” he explained, “I didn’t want to go without saying anything.”

Meridian blinked slowly, her mind filing away her dreams and returning her to reality. Her head wasn’t throbbing anymore after the medicine Azriel had given her and the additional hours of sleep. 

She turned to face him slowly and closed her eyes upon seeing the soft look on his face because the feelings that soared inside her chest were too much for her to handle when she had just woken up. Did he know how he was looking at her? Did he know his mask of stone and indifference were down and his face and eyes were looking at her with so much emotion that made tears well up at the corner of her eyes?

He wanted her to wait to accept the bond, but Meridian wanted to accept it then. She didn’t want to wait, as illogical as it was if she thought about how much she still didn’t know about him. But her bones, her blood, her flesh, and her heart knew that she would love all of him and embrace all his strengths and flaws. She knew deep down that she would never love or want anyone else if they weren’t him. She knew Azriel was for her and she was for him. 

Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead and sat up. Meridian blinked her eyes open then and reached for his hand. The shadowsinger flinched instinctively as she brought his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss. She held his hand firmly and didn’t let go even as she sat up. His wings stretched behind him, offering her support as she slumped against him. 

“What time is it?” She croaked.

“Noon,” he said, “I think Cassian’s awake.”

“If he asks me to train I’m chucking him into the Sidra.”

Azriel chuckled and Meridian’s hear fluttered. “He drank a lot too, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“How long are you going to be out for?” She asked, remembering she had to go to the apartment to be there when they delivered her things. 

“About two hours,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Meridian hummed. “I have to go to the apartment so I might not see you until dinner.”

“I’ll drop by,” he offered.

Meridian smiled. “Alright.”

She let go of his hand and watched him search for his slippers. He was wearing navy cotton pants and a dark loose shirt. Meridian looked down at her clothing—or lack of. She only wore the buttoned shirt and the panties that didn’t cover much. She traced the buttons of the shirt with her fingers and remembered Azriel wearing very similar shirts to their group outings. 

“Is this shirt yours?” She asked curiously.

Azriel nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I think Nuala and Cerridwen stole it from my wardrobe for you...the pants too.”

Meridian felt her warmth spread across her cheeks. “Oh.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead, it was a different type of intimacy. It made her chest flutter. “I’ll stop by the apartment.”

Meridian nodded and watched him leave. She waited for three beats of her heart after the door closed to throw herself down the bed. The pillow Azriel had slept on smelled of cedar. Flashes of the previous night passed behind her eyes, how drunk she had been and how Rhysand had dumped her at the entrance of the balcony, laughed when she tried to kick him and flew off. That meddling bastard. Her mind supplied that perhaps she should thank him this once, with how things had turned out. But she scoffed at the thought.

During the war, they had saved each other’s back plenty of times but constantly thanking each other had worn off after the first time. After that it went more like: ‘well if you leave yourself open, can I blame them from trying to stab you in the back?’ from Rhysand and ‘I told you to stop playing the hero, if you have suicidal tendencies just come out and say it and I’ll strangle you myself’ from her part. 

When everything was war and death, joking about their near demise was all they had. Even if they weren’t in war, Meridian was not thanking him for throwing her in the House of Wind. She was kicking his ass. 

She inhaled the scent of Azriel, her mind drifting away from Rhysand and flipping back to the previous night. She remembered Azriel undressing her, kissing her, and then stopping because she was drunk. 

Meridian wished she hadn’t drank so much, but if she hadn’t perhaps things wouldn’t have gone the way they did. 

Her stomach growled, so Meridian absorbed the scent of her mate one last time before rolling off the bed.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Not Rhysand dumping Meridian in the House of Wind and then praying that something good happens between her and Azriel so she doesn’t snap his neck the next day 😂😭
> 
> Fun fact: Meridian is a little older than our three Illyrians and she has kicked Rhysand’s ass before 
> 
> Azriel’s logic: I do like Meridian but I am not good enough for her so I am going to stay away. She will be better off without me.  
> Meridian: *cries*  
> Azriel, panicking because he made her cry: I’m staying with you from now on. 
> 
> So yeah Azriel didn’t think he deserved her so he tried to stay away from her but he realized he is hurting her more by staying away so he decided to stop being an idiot.


	21. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when things seemed to be falling into place, another conflict arises.

Azriel did not stop by the apartment. Cassian had gone with her. They had stopped to eat at a small restaurant first and had made it in time for the deliveries. They had assembled Meridian’s bed and arranged the armchair and rugs. Cassian hadn’t thought to buy a bed yet so Meridian accompanied him to the furniture shops to look for one that would fit his wings. He bought it in the same shop and same size as Meridian’s. He didn’t buy bed sheets because Mor had gifted Azriel and Rhysand plenty and he would just take a pair out of their collection of unused Winter Solstice presents. 

It was not until they went to the town house for dinner that Meridian saw Azriel and discovered why he had not stopped by the apartment. Mor was in a sour mood, drinking wine before dinner was even served—the drinking was not a new occurrence, but her mood was. Rhysand’s mood matched hers and Feyre looked both angry and worried, shooting Mor discrete worried glances. 

Shadows blurred Azriel’s tense shoulders and his eyes stared down at the floor in guilt. Rhysand explained that Keir—Mor’s father and steward of the Hewn City—had once again invited Eris to stay at the Hewn City. Eris was staying the night, and Mor was due to show up the following day so they would see each other. It was not the way Rhysand had put it, but it was what Meridian gathered was the problem.

The cause of guilt creeping on Azriel shoulders was that the shadowsinger had failed to know of his visit until past noon. Meridian knew she was the cause, but Azriel wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

Rhysand and Feyre had things to tend to the following day—in regards to the treaty—so they could not make an appearance at the Court of Nightmares and Mor was refusing Azriel and Cassian’s offers to go with her. She insisted she could handle it and that she did not need to look weak in front of them by having the Illyrians show up with her.

Azriel’s shadows curled tensely around his shoulders and his fists. Meridian desperately tried to meet his eyes but he wouldn’t look her way. She swallowed the lump on her throat, it was her fault that he felt like he had failed at his job. 

Mor insisted she would be fine, but Meridian could see under her mask. She said nothing, knowing it wouldn’t work if she spoke too soon. They ate dinner in sour moods that not even Elain’s gentle voice or the sweet dessert tart could improve. 

Meridian made herself look thoughtful after dinner when they lounged in the sitting room drinking wine and attempting at a conversation. 

Mor nudged her. “What are you scheming?”

“Rhysand’s murder,” she remembered. “Did you know he flew me off to the House of Wind last night and dumped me on the balcony?”

Rhysand coughed. “Your bed there is more comfortable.”

Meridian showed him her finger, then frowned purposefully. “I was also thinking that I should go to Hewn City with you if Eris is going to be there. If he sees me here it will send a message. I already told them I’m still friends with Rhysand even if I’m working at the Spring Court. I need them to believe it. They need to see that I have connections here that can back up the borders if they try something.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Rhysand, nodding his head. 

Azriel looked at her then but Meridian did not meet his gaze now. She felt something unpleasant and she felt foolish for it. Meridian dissipated the thoughts before they could form and shared a look with Rhysand, who had probably seen to her idea. He knew that she was going for Mor, not because she wanted Eris to know she had connections in the Night Court to back up her position at the Spring Court. What she hoped was the he had not caught the unpleasant stupid feeling of jealousy that had threatened to take form. 

She hated herself for it because this was about Mor, not about the fact that Azriel had been in love with her for Mother knows how long and the fact that he had looked so guilty and penitent for failing to know Eris was here and the fact that she was the cause of it. Azriel had looked guilty and regretful all night since she arrived because he had spent time with her when he should’ve been doing his job as a spymaster and it had cost a delay in information that affected Mor.

Meridian dug her nails into her palms in silent fury at herself for having those thoughts when her friend was sitting next to her trying to keep herself together. Her nails bit at her palm painfully, but she did not let it show on her face.

“What if he tries to spin it?” Feyre worried. “He could try to convince Tamlin you’re a spy.”

Meridian shook her head. “I have a good grip on Tamlin, he won’t question me.”

“I suppose I ought to introduce you to my lovely family sooner or later,” Mor shrugged. She tried to be nonchalant about it but Meridian could see her shoulders were less tense than before. Meridian had seen Keir only briefly and from afar a few times during the war. They had never exchanged words.

“I might leave something for them to remember me by,” she considered, “Armen says I should test my powers and Lucien thinks I’m a witch.”

Mor clicked her wine glass with hers. “Wear the black dress.”

  
  
  


The next day after breakfast, Meridian did wear the satin double slit dress. Her legs were visible with any step she took so she had strapped the dagger belt at her thigh were her blade would be visible for anyone who dared look and for easy access in case Mor decided to finally murder Keir. Meridian would’ve killed him long ago, but she could never understand Mor’s feelings. Meridian’s parents had been killed when she was a child, and the memories she had of them were lovely. She would never know how Mor felt because Meridian’s parents had not done such atrocities to her. 

She was slipping on her shoes when the door of her bedroom opened and Azriel let himself in. Meridian had not seen him since dinner the previous night, and that ordeal had been nothing but avoiding gazes. Something sat heavy at Meridian’s gut as she stole a glance at Azriel. She turned quickly, staring at her reflection in the vanity as she put on a pair of earrings. 

When she was done, she fixed her hair even though it did not need fixing because she needed to do something to stop her emotions from showing. 

“Stay with Mor at all times,” Azriel said when he finally spoke. Meridian clenched her jaw. “Do not leave her side.”

Meridian simply nodded her head, schooling her features and suppressing the snap that wanted to slip from her lips. She doubted Mor would be pleased to hear Azriel tell her to stay at her side like she was some sort of knight guarding a princess. Meridian herself had to push down the irritation of being told to stay by Mor’s side as if her intention to go to Hewn City had been an excursion and not keeping Mor company or offering a hand if she decided to dispose of Keir or even Eris. 

Azriel walked across the room to stand behind her as she sprayed citrus scented perfume over her neck and dress. “If you need to break someone’s arm, do it. Rhysand won’t mind injury complaints.”

Meridian nodded again. 

She wasn’t planning on injuring anyone. But she had stayed up practicing her powers to test it beyond what she already knew she could do. There were spells she could not try with inanimate objects and Keir was the perfect individual to try them on.

Meridian turned around to face Azriel, who was scanning her body as if he was sending a warrior to war. His eyes fell on the parted split that showed off her right leg, where the dagger belt was visible. 

“Are you taking both daggers?” He asked.

Meridian shook her head and pointed at the dagger on her vanity. She had only stripped one onto the belt. The shadowsinger grabbed the dagger from the vanity and knelt down in front of her. She suppressed her reaction, not letting her features and her body show how a simple touch of his fingers as he strapped the second dagger to the belt affected her. His fingers lingered on her skin and he did not immediately stand from his kneeling position. He glanced up at her, his palm still firm under her thigh. 

Meridian glanced down, gray eyes locking on hazel. She threaded her fingers through his hair and trailed her fingers down the side of his face, tracing his jaw and chin, thumb sticking out to brush against his bottom lip. Azriel rubbed his thumb over the back of her thigh in response. Meridian pulled her hand away and straightened herself.

“I should go,” she said, “Mor is probably waiting.”

She didn’t give Azriel time to reply, she stepped around him, crossed the room toward the door and stepped out. Morrigan was already waiting for her in the sitting room. She wore one of her signature red dresses, it was deep blood red, the color of an enemy’s blood dripping down a blade.

“Your eyes look great,” Mor admired the work she had done on her eyelids. She simply followed what she had done the first time they had gone to Rita’s.

“What if you need to take someone down?” Cassian asked from where he lounged on a settee, biting an apple. “Can you fight in that?”

“Do you want to test it?” She arched a challenging eyebrow at him.

She caught sight of Azriel entering the room. 

“I’m just saying,” he raised his hands in surrender. “Your underthings didn’t cover much when you wore that dress last—“

Meridian threw a cushion so quickly and hard that he choked on the bite of apple he was chewing. Mor arched her eyebrows so high they almost reached her hairline. “How do you know—“

Meridian slapped a particular spot on Cassian’s back and he coughed out the chunk of fruit, clapping his fist to his chest. “He was joking,” Meridian said. “Let’s go.”

She could feel Azriel’s intense stare as they headed out to the balcony and she saw him go for her but Cassian was already at her side, wrapping his arms around her to fly her down. 

  
  
  


Keir gave her a look of disdain which she returned with one of her own. He looked at her from the top of her head to the heels of her shoes and made a face of disgust. 

“I would say pleased to meet you,” she gave him a matching look of disdain, “but I rather not waste my breath on lies.”

Kier scowled at her and turned to Mor. “Another of your whore friends?”

Morrigan looked murderous. “Watch your words,” she snapped. “This is Meridian—“

“The emissary of the Spring Court,” Eris appeared at the doorway, looking amused.

Mor clenched her jaw. Meridian gave Eris a bemused look. “Eris, how unfortunate to see you here.”

The redhead arched his eyebrows. “Aren’t you far from your court?”

Meridian smiled sweetly. “I could say the same about you.”

“Shall I keep this from Tamlin?” Eris suggested with clearly fake worry. 

“Tamlin knows where I am,” she said, “I am his emissary. But you...shall I keep this from your father? Are you here planning his murder?”

Eris straightened out, his eyes not leaving hers. “Of course not, how could you say such a thing?”

Meridian chuckled darkly. “Don’t you worry, I won’t tell on you.”

Eris couldn’t find a retort and simply stood aside watching her warily, which seemed to please Mor. Meridian stood at The Morrigan’s side as she spoke with her father. Keir spoke with contempt and Meridian’s fingers itched for her dagger. For years, for decades and centuries, Keir had to report to Mor, to his daughter, and his contempt and hatred were so deep rooted that it was absolutely repulsive to think he was her father.

Meridian stared at him, her burning gaze stirring something inside her. He glanced at her, feeling the intensity of her gaze. When their eyes met, she felt something dark slither out of her and settle in him. She smirked at him wickedly and he looked away, unnerved. 

He wouldn’t sleep for days, plagued by nightmares, worst fears haunting him every time he attempted to close his eyes. She would be returning to the Spring Court soon, so she wouldn’t be able to see if for herself. But she would write to Mor and inquire about it. 

Armen had told her to test her power and Keir was the perfect subject to test the cruel spells that were now stored inside her mind. Armen believed that Meridian was a living spell book and Lucien had called her a witch. If Meridian could really cast spells without voicing them, but merely thinking of them, it would be a useful power to have. It was also extremely dangerous and best to leave it unknown. Let everyone believe she was a simple witch. If the High Lords were to find out she had the power of Amarantha’s spellbook, they would likely ask for her head. But as dangerous as the spells could be, Meridian needed to test the theory in order to learn how it worked and how to control the knowledge inside her so that it wouldn’t control her.

Mor linked their arms together as her father begrudgingly led them to another room, Meridian matched her step, the dagger at her thigh showing through the slit of her dress with every step.

  
  


Meridian was waiting for Morrigan to finish up with Keir when Eris approached her. He had disappeared after their unpleasant greeting, not following after them when they headed to discuss the Court of Nightmares. His eyes traced from the heels of her shoes to the sharp of her dagger, stopping there with a smirk.

“I always thought the Shadow Pearl preferred swords,” he said, the smirk on his lips knowing. “I heard the story of how you saved my brother. You slayed the Bauk with the Sword of Darkness.”

“Daggers do the job just fine,” Meridian deadpanned. “Do you want to test it out?”

He lifted his hands up in mock surrender. “I was merely curious, no need to be so defensive.”

Meridian rolled her eyes.

Eris came closer, only stopping three steps away from her. “How long have you been here—in the Night Court?”

“That’s none of your business—“

“Are you always this hostile?” He arched his eyebrows. 

Meridian pressed her lips together. Eris wanted her interest in what he had to say, but Meridian was in no mood to be a perfect audience. She leaned against the cool wall and said nothing.

He sighed. “My father sent an invitation for you to the Spring Court, but if you were here, then I suppose you aren’t aware of it.”

“An invitation to what?” She questioned.

He smiled. “A fine dinner in your honor.”

She snorted. 

“It is a sincere invitation,” he said seriously. “My father wants to be in good graces with you—in fact, he has a gift for you. It is the purpose of the dinner, to return something that once belonged to you.”

Meridian narrowed her eyes. “And what would that be?”

Eris smiled. “You must come to the dinner to see.”

There was a brief shift of his eyes, a half of a second, but it was enough for Meridian. His gaze has dropped to her thigh. Beron had her sword.

Eris’s gaze moved up her body as he spoke. “The dinner requires formal clothing, I recommend wearing a less revealing gown—“he licked his lips, “—this one makes you look like...Morrigan’s friend—like a whore.”

She punched him straight in the nose and the blood was imminent. He let out a grunt of pain, but did not reach to touch the injury. Eris grabbed her wrist to yank her back. 

“What is—“ Mor and Keir had finished up. “—let her go!”

Meridian was fuming with anger, staring the male down to see if he dared continue.

“We were having a conversation,” he spat out the blood that had dripped into his mouth. “We are not finished.”

“You are.” Mor deadpanned. “Let go of her.”

Eris let go, but his eyes traced Mor’s dress and then Meridian’s. He smirked. She burned. She knew he was baiting her but she couldn’t hold back. Meridian was on him, digging her nails into his shoulders as she winnowed away, taking him with her. They stepped into the bordering mountains of the Day Court and Night Court, the same spot where Cassian had once found her.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat, landing a blow to his face.

He pushed himself away from her, holding his hand to his nose. “I thought if I made you angry enough, you might listen to what I have to say.”

“I am not interested in anything you have to say,” she snapped, throwing herself at him. 

They hit and turned around in the rough ground under them, dirt and rock uncomfortable under their bodies and tearing at their clothes as they fought for the upper hand. Eris pinned her down but Meridian easily turned her body and pressed her knees over his abdomen while pressing her dagger to his throat.

“Easy,” he panted. “I only want to make a deal with you.”

“I don’t make deals with your kind.” She spat.

“My kind?” He arched his eyebrows. 

“Disgusting males,” she snarled.

Eris looked amused. “I’ll always be the villain, won’t I? One day Morrigan will realize what I did for her.”

Meridian pressed the dagger firmly against his throat.

He sighed. “I have a proposition for you.” When Meridian did not show interest but also didn’t slit this throat, the male continued. “My father wants you in our court. He wants you to become part of the Autumn Court, and my brothers, they got the clever twisted idea that if they win your heart and marry you, they will earn our father’s blessing to be next in line to the throne.”

“You’re going to ask me,” she read the proposition on the planes of his face. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “If you think I am disgusting, my brothers are worse . If you marry me, you can live your life and I will live mine. I won’t restrict you or control you. You will have the title of Lady of the Autumn Court—“

“I thought you said it was a twisted idea,” she snapped in disbelief and disgust.

“I also said it was clever.”

Meridian pulled away the dagger and rose to her feet, looking down at him with disdain. “I am the emissary of the Spring Court and Beron will have to deal with it. I am not joining your Court.”

Eris got up to his feet, his fingers tracing the mark her dagger had left at his throat. “Are you sleeping with Tamlin? Is that why you’re refusing me? Tamlin has a temper, your friend Feyre can attest to that.”

Meridian swung with her dagger but he evaded and grabbed her arm, yanking her close enough that their noses touched. “Think of the power you will have at my side as the Lady of the Autumn Court—“

“I won’t marry you for a title,” she spat. “I have a mate.”

Eris’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ah. I did not account for that.” His gaze traveled over her body and he tilted his head to the side. “There is no presence of a male in you. If you are not bonded, you should think about what would benefit you the most.”

Meridian cursed him like she cursed Keir. He wouldn’t sleep for days. She pulled her arm free and stepped away from him, gripping her dagger tightly. She couldn’t kill him, not when they were still inside the Night Court and after having introduced herself to Keir as the Spring Court’s emissary. The last thing she needed was Beron with an excuse to march into the Spring Court.

“If you change your mind, wear gold to the dinner.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> I know I know they just got together and there is more drama but the outcome will be better for their relationship 
> 
> Eris: my brothers want to marry you   
> Meridian: I don’t like where this is goingᇂ_ᇂ  
> Eris: Marry me instead   
> Meridian:╭∩╮（︶︿︶）╭∩╮


	22. Bitter Thoughts, A Punch to the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Azriel seems more worried about his past love than Meridian, she runs away to the Spring Court, prepared to accept the invitation to the Autumn Court.

Meridian winnowed back to the Court of Nightmares, leaving Eris to return on his own. The moment she stepped inside, she regretted her impulsive decision to winnow away with Eris. The Court of Nightmares was buzzing with guards and courtiers rushing around. She did not take more than three steps when someone was yanking her arm. Meridian glared at Keir, returning the hateful look he was giving her. “Where is Eris?”

“I didn’t kill him if that is what you are worried about,” she replied.

The male growled, holding her arm tightly as he dragged her out. She allowed him to do it because she had to get back to Mor. From his attitude and the way they had all stopped when they realized she was there, Meridian deduced that Mor must have informed Rhysand of what had happened and everyone was looking for her.

They were intercepted on their way out. Azriel held True Teller threateningly as he marched towards them. Keri immediately let off of her. “She came back alone—“

Azriel’s voice was a dark, cold whisper. “The High Lord told you he wanted her back without a scratch.”

She watched Keir swallow. “She was already like this when she returned. I had nothing to do with it.”

Meridian looked down at her dirty and torn dress. She had not fought elegantly and her dress had suffered for it. 

“The High Lord will be the judge of that,” Azriel replied in the same cold tone.

Before the steward could protest, Azriel was already holding Meridian against his body and spreading his wings. He sheathed True Teller and took off into the sky. Meridian could feel the anger rolling off him in icy cold waves. She hadn’t been gone for more than an hour. Meridian knew she shouldn’t have left the way she did, but she had been so furious at the moment and she had taken the decision on an impulse, which was rare of her. She always thought of every possible outcome and the consequences to her actions. 

Azriel did not take her to the House of Wind like she thought he would. He landed in front of the townhouse, his shadows lingering around her as she stepped away from him so she could properly look at his face. Meridian was about to tell him that she was fine and that, unfortunately, she had not killed Eris, but Azriel took a step forward.

“I told you to stay with Mor,” his voice was smoke and shadows.

Meridian swallowed her words but they got stuck on the lump forming at her throat. Azriel hadn’t been worried about her, he was angry she had left Morrigan alone. She stepped away from him feeling like she had been just punched in the gut. 

“Did something happen to Mor?” She asked.

“Mor is fine—I told you to stay at her side—“

Meridian shook her head at him and whirled away, not wishing to hear him any longer. She stormed into the townhouse where Elain was pacing in the sitting room.

“You’re back!” She rushed to her, her eyes widening as she took in her state. “Your dress—“

“Could I borrow the shower and some clothes?” Meridian asked.

“Meridian,” Azriel had followed her in. “Meridian we weren’t done talking—“

“I am,” she snapped. 

The white haired female did not turn to look at him. She stormed off to the bathroom, not waiting for Elain’s response. When she made it into the bathroom she did not lock the door. She doubted Azriel would walk in but she hoped Elain would come to bring her clothes. 

Meridian took in her own reflection as she stared at the mirror. Her dress was dirty and torn, one of the slits had ripped way too high up. There were a few scratches on her arms and legs from the rocky surface that had served as fighting ground. There was some dirt on her face and hair as well. 

She dumped her torn dress on the trash and got onto the shower, scrubbing the dirt off and washing off her face from the makeup she had worn to fit the look. It was Cerridwen who walked in as she scrubbed her skin furiously. The half-wraith took the sponge away from her despite her protests and started washing her calmly. 

When she was done, she helped Meridian get dressed. Elain had lent her a flowy blue dress with puffed sleeves, a sweetheart neck with a ruched button front and a laced blue ribbon at the back. The pale blue made her white hair paler, but she still looked like a damsel from a storybook, except her brows were furrowed at the middle and her lips were set tight. 

Cerridwen offered to style her hair, but Meridian thanked her and declined. When she returned to the sitting room, everyone was there, even Armen.

“Meridian,” Mor threw her hands around her. “I was so worried. Did he do something to you?”

Rhysand did not move as Feyre came to hug her as well, but his gaze met hers in a silent question. Meridian nodded to him, affirming she was alright. It was when Cassian lifted her up in his arms that she rolled her eyes and swatted him away. 

“I was the one to winnow away with him,” she said, “I was never in any danger so I don’t know what the fuzz is about.”

“Why would you leave with Eris?” Azriel, who she had been ignoring, finally stepped from behind Rhysand. “He is dangerous—“

“I’m sure I can handle him,” she cut him off without a look. “He just wanted to make a proposition.”

“What kind of proposition?” Cassian asked.

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“What did he have to propose to you?” Rhysand repeated the question. 

Meridian pursed her lips. She stared at the High Lord and replied dismissively. “Marriage.”

Mor swore loudly. “Is he out of his mind?”

“What did you say?” Cassian demanded.

“I was very tempted to cut his throat, but that would’ve been messy so I left him in the mountain borders and left.”

“Why does he want to marry you?” Feyre asked.

Meridian could feel Azriel’s intense stare and the call of his shadows urging her to look at him, but she couldn’t. She was angry and hurt and if she looked at him she would either scream at him or burst into tears. She kept her gaze on Feyre as she replied. “Beron wants me in the Autumn Court so now his sons think what whoever wins me over will be next in line.”

Morrigan scowled. She looked furious and disgusted with the idea and proposition.

Rhysand ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh as he reached into his pocket. He held out an envelope to her. “This might be related then.” Meridian took the letter from him. She recognized Tamlin’s handwriting. “One of the Summer Court guards handed it to me.”Feyre and Rhysand had gone to the Summer Court to discuss the treaty with Tarquin. “He said Tamlin had asked him to find a way to deliver it to you.”

Meridian opened the letter and read it to herself.

_ Meridian, _

_ I apologize for interrupting your well deserved vacation days, but I thought it was best I informed you of the invitation that arrived from the Autumn Court. The invitation is addressed to you alone, it is an invitation to a dinner in your honor. Beron claims to be sincerely inviting you to an exclusive dinner where he plans to return something that once belonged to you.  _

_ I wouldn’t trust Beron, but it is your decision if you wish to attend. If not, simply continue with your deserved vacation and I will see you in a few days. _

_ Best regards, _

_ Tamlin.  _

Meridian folded up the letter and explained it’s contents. “Beron invited me to dinner, it’s tomorrow. Eris had already told me.”

“You’re not going, are you?” Cassian arched his eyebrows.

“I am,” she stated.

Azriel crossed over the room, his brows furrowed, lips tight, and shoulders tense. “It could be a trap. You can’t—you shouldn’t go.”

Meridian looked away from him and glanced at Rhysand. “He claims to have something that belongs to me and I want it back.”

Rhysand ran his hand over his hair again and nodded. “You shouldn’t go alone. Armen or Azriel could go with you.”

Meridian shook her head. “I’m returning to the Spring Court right now. I’ll ask Tamlin to go with me.”

Mor made a sound of indignation and disapproval. “If the dinner is not until tomorrow, you can stay and go back tomorrow at noon.”

Meridian shook her head. “It’s best if I leave today.”

Feyre and Rhysand shared a look, but Meridian did not give room for protests. He hugged Mor tightly and kissed her cheek. “Wait, you’re leaving right now?”

Meridian pulled away and nodded. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Mor frowned as Meridian moved on to hug Elain and Armen and Feyre. Cassian offered to go with her to the Autumn Court but she simply shook her head and kissed his cheek. She ignored Rhysand’s searching look as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Her heart beat faster in her chest when she kissed Azriel’s cheek and his shadows clung to her. She did not meet his eyes, not letting her hurt and anger show through. 

“Elain, I will have your dress cleaned and I shall send it back in a few days.”

Elain shook her head. “Keep it, it looks prettier on you.”

Meridian did not stall, she walked out of the townhouse and winnowed away before anyone could ask her to reconsider her sudden departure. Instead of winnowing to Rosehall as she usually did, Meridian arrived at the border. She needed to walk to the manor to relax and calm herself before seeing Tamlin. 

She walked under the ever-spring sun, feeling the grass tickle her ankles and her hair brush against her back with the gentle wind. She removed her heeled shoes and walked barefoot, feeling the moist dirt and grass under her feet. 

Meridian forced the lump of emotion down her throat and pushed down her anger and hurt feelings. The joy of the other night and the previous early morning had been short lived. She should’ve probably talked it out with Azriel, but she had felt words away from crying. What was she supposed to say anyway?  _ You were more worried about Morrigan than me? _ It sounded selfish and pathetic even in her head. She had overreacted because she was hurt and jealous that Azriel had been angry that she had left Mor alone instead of worrying about her disappearance. 

She was furiously wiping the tears that had managed to escape her gray eyes when she heard a horse approaching. She blinked them away and collected herself in time to smile at Vane.

“You came back early,” he smiled.

“I figured I should return early to discuss the Autumn Court’s invitation with Tamlin.” She shrugged.

Vane shook his head. “You shouldn’t go.”

He extended her hand for her and she grabbed it after putting her shoes back on. He pulled her up, helping her mount the horse. She grabbed onto him, not replying to his opinion as they rode to the manor. 

Tamlin was outside the manor, having a conversation with Amir. Meridian had a little more trouble than usual unmounting the horse as she briefly forgot she was wearing a dress and not her leathers. Vane was quick to help her down as Tamlin approached them.

“I take it you received my letter,” said Tamlin.

“I did,” she nodded. “Thank you for informing me.”

“As I wrote in the letter, I think it is best if you don’t attend.” He grunted, his brows pinched. “But it is a personal invitation, I do not have a say in what you do in your personal life.” 

Meridian forced a smile and linked her arm with Tamlin’s. “Stop making that face. I need to go and take what is mine.”

“What is that that they have of yours?” He questioned.

“It must be my sword,” she sighed. “My sword is important to me, I must retrieve it.”

Tamlin nodded his head. They walked inside the manor, letting go of their linked arms. “You should take Amir or Orson with you.”

Meridian had told Rhysand she would ask Tamlin to go with her, but the thought of taking a male with her as if she needed protecting sounded ridiculous now. She would go alone and if anyone in the Autumn Court dared put a hand on her, she would rip it off their body. 

“I must go alone,” she said, “it is a personal matter, if we end on bad terms, I do not want it to affect the Spring Court.”

“As you wish,” said Tamlin.

“Meridian!” Siena squealed as she saw her. “You’re back!”

Tamlin sighed. 

“I decided to return a bit early,” she smiled at the maid's enthusiasm. 

“Oh, you must come to your room,” she said suddenly. “There are four beautiful presents waiting for you!”

Meridian’s eyebrows rose in question as she glanced at Tamlin. He shook his head, his expression displeased. “Beron’s sons. They have each sent you a gift.”

Siena urged her to go up to her bedroom and to her surprise even Tamlin followed. Meridian dreaded whatever gifts they had sent to her, knowing well the intention behind the presents. She had hoped Eris had lied about his brothers’ plans to win her over. 

When they reached her bedroom, Siena opened the door and urged her inside. Tamlin stayed at the door, looking unhappy. There were four dress boxes on top of her bed, each with a note attached and signed by one of Beron’s sons.

The one whose soul she owned had sent her a blood red evening gown. The one whose hair was more orange than red had sent her an almond toned gown with a low v neckline. The one whose eyes were sharp and full of malice had sent her a burnt maple silk dress. Eris had sent her the most beautiful gown of all, a gold sparkling gown that would surely shine brightly in the sunlight. 

“Which one will you wear?” Siana asked. “They are all so beautiful.”

“I won’t wear any of them.” Meridian stated. “I would rather go in my leathers than wear something that came from them.”

Siana looked at her and Tamlin and then nodded her head slowly. “What shall I do with them?”

“Put them away in another room,” said Meridian. “I shall send them back later.”

Siena nodded, stacking two of the boxes and carrying them out. Tamlin stepped aside to let her pass and stepped into the room. “Are you alright?”

Meridian turned to him. “Yes, why do you ask?”

Tamlin assessed her from head to toe. “Your arrival was rather sudden and you came empty handed.”

Meridian’s fingers twitched against the skirt of the pale blue dress. In her hurry to leave, she had not even thought of dropping by the House of Wind to retrieve her bag and worse of all, she had left her short swords behind. She had only remembered to strap the thigh belt with the pair of daggers under the borrowed dress. 

“Where are your weapons?”

“Strapped under my dress,” she informed him, taping her thigh over the dress. “But I did leave my short sword behind.”

“It doesn’t sound like you,” said Tamlin, “to leave your weapons behind. What happened?”

Meridian looked away. “I had a disagreement and didn’t bother to get my things before leaving.”

“With Rhysand?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No. My...friend did not want me to go to the Autumn Court.”

Tamlin did not say anything for a long minute, then he turned towards the door. “You’re still on your vacation days so don’t resume any of your responsibilities yet. Take the rest of the day off and all of tomorrow as well.”

Tamlin left her room and she heard him descend the stairs. Siena returned for the other two dresses, asking her if she would wear the same dress she had worn to Summer Solstice.

  
  


After greeting the others and having lunch with Tamlin and the guards that were off shift, Meridian left for a stroll alone. She still wore the pale dress as she lay in the grass, hoping it wouldn’t get stained green. If it did, she could buy Elain another but Siena’s was also very good at getting all the stains out. If she could clean blood off her clothes, she surely could clean grass stains. 

She had been laying down for about ten minutes when a piece of paper dropped down to her face. She picked up the note and unfolded it.

_ You left your short swords behind, Azriel is offering to take them to you _ .

Meridian sighed. 

She did not have a pen with her, but summoning objects was something she had been practicing. It worked half of the time. She pictured the pen that lay next to her notebook in her bedroom and a few seconds later the pen dropped on top of her head instead of her open palm. She grunted, rubbing the spot where it had landed.

Meridian rested the piece of paper on her lap as she replied.

_ No. Tamlin knows I left them behind, if I suddenly have them back he will wonder how I got them. _

She folded the paper and it disappeared immediately.

There was no reply. Ten minutes went by and then a note appeared. 

_ Did something happen between you and Azriel? He’s more angry at himself than usual. He insists on going to the Spring Court, I had to use my High Lord tone with him. He is furious but I doubt he will go, at least for today.  _

Meridian stared at Rhysand’s handwriting for a long time before replying. 

_ Don’t ask me. _

The moment the paper disappeared, Meridian walked back to the manor, passing Orson silently and avoiding being seen by anyone else as she climbed up the stairs to lock herself in her room. 

She perched herself on the windowsill and stared down at the green fields and the hills that stretched across the land. She stayed there for hours, thinking about Arron and Azriel, how different they were from one another. Arron had kept her a secret from his father but everyone else in the court knew of their relationship. Azriel had finally given her hope, the beginning of something, and he had ran back to his love for Morrigan hours later. 

She might have loved Arron, or perhaps she hadn’t, either way it had never hurt to be his little secret. She had never cared that their relationship had to be a secret. With Azriel, it hurt to be his fated mate and still be nowhere near important as Morrigan was to him. 

As the sun set down behind the green hills, Meridian caught shadows gathering and blending behind some trees. With her lights on, her form was perfectly visible from outside. She stood, her eyes looking directly at the darker shadows as she closed the curtains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> I almost didn’t update tonight because I had a bad headache. But it calmed down a bit and I’m excited to get to the next two chapters.
> 
> Cerridwen & Nuala lurking from the shadows:  
> Cerridwen: he messed up, again?  
> Nuala, nodding: he messed up, again.
> 
> Rhysand, looking at Feyre: they fought?  
> Feyre, starting back: *nods* they fought. 
> 
> What dress do you think Meridian is going to wear?


	23. Sword of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian attends a dinner at the Autumn Court. She retrieves her sword but finds the unmistakable taste of faebane in her wine.

Despite Tamlin's suggestion that she took the following day off, Meridian got up early to train with the High Lord and the sentinels in training. They were all glad to have her join them even if they were all exhausted afterwards. They all had breakfast together and Meridian and Tamlin did the usual sweep over the borders. They kept a slow pace as they returned to the manor, enjoying the spring breeze and warm sun. 

Meridian glanced over at Tamlin as she broke the silence. “I saw Lucien.”

Tamlin immediately tensed. “At the Night Court.”

It was not a question. “Yes, he went to see his mate and I invited him for lunch.”

“What did you two have to talk about?” Tamlin grunted.

“He was your emissary before—“

“He betrayed me,” Tamlin growled.

Meridian sighed. “Tamlin, you know you were wrong and Lucien just wanted to see his mate.”

Tamlin did not deny it, but his shoulders were still tense. 

“You should let him visit and apologize to him,” she said carefully. “You shouldn’t let your friendship end.”

Tamlin shook his head and took off on his horse, leaving her behind. Meridian sighed, keeping her slow pace and returned to the manor. He needed to think about it on his own and then he would come to her again. 

When she reached the manor, she went up to her room and found Siena fuzzing over a light green gown with golden embroidery. 

“Who sent that?” Meridian questioned as she stepped closer. 

But as she took in the details of the dress, she knew that it was a Spring Court dress. The jem of the dress was embroidered with golden roses that matched the off the shoulder sleeves and the embroidery at the neckline. There was a golden ribbon that gave shape to the waistline.

“The High Lord told me to wash it last night,” said Siena, “he told me to bring it to your room when it was ready.”

Siena dreamily glanced at the dress one more time before excusing herself with Meridian’s dirty clothes. 

  
  


Meridian watched Tamlin return an hour before lunch. She was sitting on the windowsill, letting the spring air and sunshine into her room. She sat there and waited for him to get inside and as she had predicted, he knocked on her door a few minutes later. 

“Come in,” she called. 

There was a moment of hesitation before the door opened at the High Lord stepped into the doorway. “Is Lucien living in the Night Court?”

Meridian patted the space beside her for him to sit. Tamlin closed the door and walked over to her. He sat down in the windowsill cushion, their arms brushing slightly. “Not really. He rents an apartment for when he visits but he spends most of the time with the mortals.” 

Tamlin nodded his head. “Is he and—is he not with Elain?”

Meridian didn’t feel comfortable about talking about Feyre’s sister to Tamlin, so she kept it as brief as possible. “Elain is not ready for a relationship.”

The High Lord stayed silent for a while and then he glanced up at her, the sunlight reflecting on his eyes. “If he were to visit, I wouldn’t turn him away.” 

She smiled at him. “Good. I shall invite him next time I see him.”

The ends of his mouth twitched upwards but he turned his head to stare out the window. Meridian let a moment pass before focusing her gaze in the beautiful spring dress. “Where did you get the dress?”

Tamlin turned to her and followed her gaze to the gown. After a moment he replied. “It was my mother’s.”

Meridian had been hoping it was not Feyre’s, a lucky one that had escaped his claws when she left and he trashed her room. But his reply wasn’t any better. 

“Her clothes are still intact,” he said, “I thought her clothes would’ve been eaten by moths after all this time. But I unlocked my parents’ room and all her gowns are there. It was full of dust, but I asked Siena to clean it for you.”

“I don’t think I can wear your mother’s gown,” she said softly. “It is beautiful but you should give it to someone special.”

Tamlin looked at her, his eyes holding her gaze for a long moment. “I don’t think there’ll be someone special for me.”

The hurt on his tone and the shadows that crossed his eyes made her feel truly sorry for him. “Don’t say that. There will be, perhaps not now, but one day you’ll find someone right for you.”

Tamlin dropped his gaze to his palms for a moment and then looked at her again. “I want you to have the dress. You have helped me rebuild my Court and myself. Beron’s sons seem to be too intrigued by you. They sent you those dresses as if waiting to see who you favor, that is why you didn’t accept them, isn’t it? You can wear your leathers to their dinner if you wish, but you could also wear the gown. Even if it is a personal invitation, you are my emissary and if they try something, you let them know the Spring Court is right behind you. You call and we will be there for you. If you have to kill one or two of his sons, do it, I will back you up.” 

She had done a great job rebuilding Tamlin, the High Lord hardly needed her guidance anymore. There was still much to do in his Court and she would stay to make sure it got done, but in a few months she wouldn’t need to come back. 

“I will wear the dress,” she said, her voice soft and grateful.

…

Siena assisted her when it was time to get dressed. She curled her hair and then brushed the curls into waves. She painted her eyelids gold again, added color to her cheeks, darkened her lashes, and painted her lips a pinkish nude. She tucked her hair behind her ear on one side, holding it in place with a rose pin. 

Meridian strapped the belt of daggers to her thigh, though they wouldn’t be easy to grab under the long heavy skirt of the gown.

Siena did not flinch this time when she saw her scarred back as she helped her into the fine gown. The shoes were gold, matching the embroidery of the dress and the shimmer of her eyelids. 

“You are beautiful,” said Siena in awe. “The sentinels will all fall in love with you when they see you—the ones that haven't been charmed yet. 

Meridian arched her eyebrows in question.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Siena giggled. “Vane, Unan, Orson and even Rion.”

“They aren’t in love with me,” she huffed, “they’re just impressed with my fighting skills.”

“I feel bad for all of them,” she sighed.

“Why?” Meridian asked.

“Because you don’t look at any of them,” she said. “You have someone in the Night Court, don’t you? You were so happy to leave early but when you returned you looked very sad. It was because you had to return early wasn’t it? You wanted to spend more time with them.”

Meridian swallowed the lump on her throat and let out a convincing laugh. “You’re such a romantic.”

She left the room, Siena pouting behind her. Tamlin looked up as she descended the stairs. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

Before she could take the last step, Tamlin walked over to her and held up an ankle belt in one hand and a golden dagger in the other. It was longer than the ones at their thighs, made for stabbing rather than throwing. The handle was engraved with vines, roses, and birds.

“It goes with the dress,” he said. 

Meridian took the dagger from him, admiring the beautiful engravings. “It’s beautiful.”

“Allow me,” said Tamlin before bending down to buckle the weapon belt around her ankle.

Siena’s eyes were wide as saucers, matching the look on Nita and Gretel’s faces as they had come out to look. Meridian handed the dagger to Tamlin and he strapped it to the belt. 

“I’ll take you to the border.” 

She nodded her head, accepting the offer. 

Outside, a horse waited for her and one for Tamlin. Orson and Amir were already mourning their houses. Tamlin helped her to her horse and they rode to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts. Vane was waiting for them there. 

“If you need back up, give us a signal and we will be there,” he said. 

“Thank you,” she said.

He meant well, but they both knew he couldn’t do that. The Summer Court guard couldn’t step into the Autumn Court to help a Spring Court emissary, it would cause tension in the Summer Court and Autumn Court borders. 

Vane stepped forward and offered his hand to help her off the horse. Meridian had decided that it was best to winnow close to Forest House, it was safer than riding alone through the Autumn Court. 

“Remember what I said,” Tamlin gave her a firm look. “Personal invitation or not, you are still my emissary. If they threaten you, I have your back.”

Meridian smiled and nodded her head. “Thank you.”

All four of them watched her step though the border, she walked a few steps into the Autumn Court before winnowing in front of Forrest House. 

The guards posted there bowed their heads and escorted her inside. Beron’s sons were all there, waiting for her. The moment they took in her dress, the displeasure showed on their faces.

“Isn’t my dress pretty?” She pressed an offended hand to her heart as if she was hurt they weren’t complimenting her. “It is a lovely gift from Tamlin.”

“You look lovely with anything you wear,” Eris forced a smile. 

Meridian noted the smudges under his eyes, which he seemed to have tried to cover up. Her face fell in concern. “Eris, are you alright? You look a little ill, have you not been sleeping well?”

The male clenched his jaw tightly and she saw how his shoulders tensed. “I am alright, thank you for your concern, Meridian.”

They walked her all together, like wolves surrounding their prey. Beron and his wife were in the sitting room, the High Lord rose to his feet when she walked in. 

“Meridian, you look lovely,” he complimented.

She suppressed her urge to roll her eyes. Instead she made herself look discouraged. “I’m afraid your sons don’t think the same. They seemed very displeased to see me.”

Beron laughed, it was short and forced and he sent a look at all four of them. “I’m sure they are just discouraged. They tried to keep it a secret but I heard they all sent you a gown to wear this evening.”

“Tamlin surprised me with this beautiful gown,” she smiled dreamily. “How could I wear anything else?”

“It is a lovely gown,” said the Lady of the Autumn Court. “The embroidery is beautiful. It was made for the Spring Court.”

Meridian nodded. “It was Tamlin’s mother.”

Meridian registered the reaction of every single one of them, from the fury beneath Beron’s skin to the annoyance coming from his sons and the pleasant surprise from the Lady of the Court.

A servant stepped forward and informed them that the table was ready. The Lady of the Court came to her side and walked her towards the grand dining room. Meridian sat next to the Lady, to Beron’s left. Eris sat right across from her, leaving the closet seat to the right of his father for one of his brothers. He smiled at her from across the table.

The servants poured their wine and bowed as they excused themselves. 

“You and Tamlin seem close,” said Beron as they began to eat. “You are wearing his mother’s dress.”

Meridian smiled softly. “I am his emissary, of course we are close.”

Beron tried to hide his displeasure but it was obvious through his tense fingers as he reached for his glass of wine. “Ah, here I was hoping to convince you to come to my court.” He took a sip of wine and watched her closely as he set the glass down. “You could stay friends with him but work for my Court. It shouldn’t be a problem for you since you are friends with Rhysand while you’re working with his enemy.”

Meridian reached for her glass of wine and brought it up to her lips. The moment the red wine touched her lips she mentally cursed. She swallowed the sip and set the glass down. Her expression and her body language remained flawlessly calculated. 

“I couldn’t leave the Spring Court,” she said. “I missed this past war, but the conflicts are far from over. I will protect the borders along with Tamlin.”

Meridian spoke calmly as if she had not just tasted fae bane on her wine. She looked down at her food as she cut a small piece of meat, keeping her body relaxed as she took a bite. She chewed slowly but she did not taste any faebane. Meridian had been fed more than enough faebane to be able to state the smallest amount on her food and drinks. 

If Beron wanted her in his Court, it made no sense that he would want to start on the wrong foot. She had tasted the smallest traces on the wine, if she drank the whole glass, her power would be dulled, but it wouldn’t leave her completely defenseless. 

Perhaps it was Eris trying to get even. 

“I would’ve never thought you would join the Spring Court,” said Beron. “When you came to Pythian, you seemed to favor the Night Court.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t favor any court. I simply joined the war and I met Rhysand and Morrigan along the way.” 

“I do regret not being more welcoming during your stay here,” he said. “Perhaps if you had gotten along with my sons you would’ve joined the Autumn Court upon your return.”

Meridian waved her hand. “I completely understand. In times of war one must be careful with who they allow in their house.”

Meridian could feel sharp eyes staring at her. She glanced up at those eyes full of malice. “Perhaps I could give you a tour of our land,” he offered. “We can do so after dinner or any day you're available.”

Meridian forced a smile. “I am always terribly busy, but I will have your offer in mind.”

As dinner went, Meridian noted all of their expressions as they talked and ate. She watched them carefully as she reached for her glass of wine. He was not very subtle, the son whose life she had saved followed her movements from her fingers gripping the glass to the wine touching her lips and the swallow of her throat. 

Meridian used the same spell she used with Eris. He would be plagued by nightmares every time he attempted to sleep. 

The servants poured more wine for them all except her. “Is the wine not your liking, Meridian?” He asked. Can we offer you another one to your liking?”

Meridian touched the hilt of her daggers through her dress. “No, the wine is very pleasant.”

She lifted up the glass to her lips and drank. There was a paper tucked into her chest, a form of communicating with Rhysand. She would only use it as a last resort and she didn’t think she would need it but it made her feel a little safer. 

After dessert, they returned to the living room and Beron called for a servant. “Bring it.”

The servan bowed and excused himself. He returned a minute later with a long burnt orange box with golden maple leaves. Another servant assisted him by moving a tuffet right in front of her. The male servant set the box on top of it. 

“You must have lost it during your last fight,” said Beron, gesturing for her to open the box.

Meridian’s fingers twitched as she reached for the lid. She lifted it slowly, revealing a silver blade sword with a charcoal black hilt and single blue pearl at the pommel. Shadows and smoke danced across the blade and the blue pearl shone through them. 

It was her sword, often called Sword of Darkness, but her name was Shadow Caller.

Her fingers ached to touch the blade, to grip the hilt, but she was afraid of grabbing it and the shadows that clung to it dissipating. 

“I always wondered where it had ended.” She said.

“Everyone believed you dead,” said Beron, looking at her, waiting for her to grab the sword. “The general you fought sure claimed to have killed you and he claimed your sword as his reward.” Beron was getting impatient. “There were rumors that the sword was too heavy for him and would often disappear in the shadows. A month after your supposed death, I killed the general and took the Sword of Darkness.”

When he paused, Meridian looked up at him to continue, her fingers not reaching for the sword. 

“I placed it among our collection of relics, it has never been used since then.” He informed her. “I wanted to honor you and the sword you used to save my son's life.”

“I appreciate you keeping it safe all these years.”

Beron gripped the arms of his chair tightly. The Lady of the Court looked worried. It was obvious that Beron had expected more gratitude from her. He had expected her to take the sword in her hand and thank him wholeheartedly. He had expected to sway her to join his court. Meridian glanced at the Lady of the Court and then looked down at the sword. It made her blood boil how easily she could sense the sadness and fear coming from the Lady of the Autumn Court. 

“I was not the only one who was interested in keeping the sword,” Beron added. “The High Lord of the Night Court was not very pleased I got my hands on it first.”

“Rhysand?”

“No,” he said, looking at her suspiciously. “His father. Did you ever officially join his forces during the war?”

Meridian kept her face perfectly controlled. “No. I did hear a lot about him, but I never met him in person.”

“I wonder why he was interested in your sword, if you never met.” He was studying her, but her expressions did not betray her.

“I believe Rhysand had told him about me,” she said, her tone considering. “Perhaps he also told him about my famous sword. Rhysand wanted me to join the Night Court after the war ended.”

“I thought of sending the sword to the Spring Court,” he said, “but I thought reuniting you with your legendary sword deserved a feast.”

“I am very thankful,” she traced the edge of the burnt orange box with her finger. 

“I won’t lie,” he added, trying to contain his impatience. “I hoped you would take it as a reasonable token of consideration to join my court. I do remember you taking long walks in my forest. The scenery always appealed to you. I know you are ruthless in battle, you will find yourself at home training in my guard as one of my high ranked officials. Or would you prefer to be my emissary?”

“I am afraid I cannot leave the Spring Court,” she closed the lid of the box and placed her hand over her green and gold dress. “I will not rest until the borders are secure and there is still work to do. I am very grateful that you took care of my sword Lord Beron and I will take it as a well intentioned gift in payment for the faebane that found its way to my wine glass.”

The Lady of the Court gasped and Beron turned his furious gaze from her to his sons. Eris was looking directly at her, his shoulders tense as his father assessed each of them. Meridian tilted her head toward the brother sitting at his right. Eris turned to him, his face furious but controlled.

“Faebane?” Beron barked. “That is a serious accusation.”

“Then I suppose you will need to have a serious conversation with your sons,” she said, rising to her feet. “I do not think it will take much to know who it was. I doubt Tamlin will be very happy to hear his emissary was poisoned with faebane, but you have given me back my sword in good faith, so I will spare your son.” 

She held the box in her arms and bowed her head to the High Lord. “Thank you for the invitation, I will take my leave now.”

Meridian walked away from the rotten family, aware of Eris following after her. The guard opened the door for her and he followed her out. “Meridian, wait.”

“I don’t like to linger in places where I am wanted weak or dead.”

He took the liberty to grab her arm. “I did not know my brother would do something like that. I would’ve stopped him.”

“I don’t care.”

“Think about my offer,” he insisted. “You see how cruel my brothers can be. If you accept my proposal you will be the Lady of the Court. I will give you the freedom to do as you wish and you will have the power and the title to do as you please.”

Meridian yanked her arm away from him. She could feel the faebane inside her body, she did not have much time before her winnowing was affected. “I told you I won’t marry for a title. I won’t leave the Spring Court for the Autumn Court, I thought the dress made it very clear.”

He grabbed her arm again and she almost dropped the box trying to step away. “Is Tamlin your mate? Is that why you stay in that broken court? You think he is any better than I am? You’ve got the worst mate the Mother could’ve paired you up with.”

Meridian yanked her arm away in a swift movement and before he could attempt to grab her again, her hand connected with his cheek. “My mate is nothing like you,” she spat. “You don’t even reach the soles of his shoes.”

She threw off the lid, took the sword in her hand and dropped the box before winnowing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Meridian making all the males of the Autumn Court look like fools. 
> 
> What did you think about Meridian wearing the Spring Court dress? 
> 
> Azriel will be in the next chapter!
> 
> A lot of you have been commenting how much you love Meridian. I’m so happy you love her character!


	24. Won’t Give In Easily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian is stranded in the Autumn Court forest unable to winnow. From smoke and shadow, Azriel comes for his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn’t upload 😭 I’m so tired I’m literally falling asleep as I post. But I didn’t want to make you wait more so here you go!

The faebane did not allow her to reach the Spring Court. She fell into the forest of orange and golden leaves. Meridian clutched the sword tightly and the shadows brushed against her knuckles. 

She used the sword to push herself up to her feet and attempted to winnow away. She only managed to go a few feet forward and landed on her knees, her blade piercing the ground.

The shadows engulfed her, not coming from her or Shadow Caller but from Azriel who had come from smoke and shadows, kneeling in front of her with a torn expression.

“Meridian,” he cupped her face, “what did they do to you?”

Meridian pushed his hand away but he grabbed her palms instead and held on tightly. 

“I know you’re angry with me, but now it is not the time,” he said urgently and furious. “What did they do to you?”

Meridian swallowed her pride. “Faebane.”

Shadows crossed over his features, his eyes shining over the darkness of his coiling shadows. His jaw was clenched tight as he lifted her up in his arms, handing the sword for her to hold as he carried her away through the shadows that blended them in the night. She could feel the fury in every twitch of his tight muscles.

“I can still walk,” she said. “I just can’t winnow.”

He ignored her and continued to walk in the shadows. 

“You can’t take me to the Spring Court,” she said. “Tamlin will be waiting for me at the border.”

“You left early,” Azriel stated. “He won’t be expecting you yet.”

“Where are you taking me?” She demanded. 

“We are going through the Summer Court.”

“We can get there faster,” she said. “I know you can travel through the shadows. Why are you walking?”

Even in the darkness of the shadows surrounding them, she saw his lips twitch in a smile. “You’re not gravely injured. You don’t need medical assistance.”

“So what?” She hissed. “I still need to get to Spring Court.”

“There is no urgency,” Azriel replied. “I can take my time.”

She elbowed hard in the chest and pulled her weight down to stand on her own feet. Azriel grunted, rubbing his chest though the smile never left him. 

“I can walk myself!” 

Meridian set off on her own, using Shadow Caller as a guide through the darkness of the night and Azriel’s shadows. She heard Azriel sigh and follow after her. “I am getting worried,” he paused. “I know I overreacted yesterday. But that was not the worst of me and you’re already angry with me to the point of leaving the Night Court to avoid me.”

Meridian swallowed, her steps faltering. “I am angry with you,” she paused, “but that does not mean I don’t want you as my mate anymore.” Then, more fiercely, she added. “But even if I want you as a mate, I won’t let you keep on playing with me. Either you want me or not Azriel. I won’t stay around to catch the scraps of your leftover feelings.”

She took off again, walking faster. Azriel followed with more advantage as he blended their path with shadows. “What are you talking about? I thought you were angry because of how I acted when you were gone.”

The white haired female planted her feet on the ground and turned around to face him. “When I was gone? Did you even care? Because the first thing you did when I returned was yell at me for not following your orders.”

“Because I was worried sick!” He said, grabbing her hand and forcing her sword down so he could step closer to her. “The Court of Nightmares is not Velaris. It is dangerous and you went alone with Mor. You only had each other as fallback if something happened. I told you to stay with Mor and you went and disappeared with Eris. You know how I felt when Mor came out and told me you were gone? I thought I would go insane.”

He forced her to drop the sword and pressed her against the truck of a tree a few steps away, her palm pressed against his wildly beating heart. 

“And you came back with your dress in shreds and your arms scratched up, your knees bruised and you expect me to not be worried?” The beat of Meridian’s heart was starting to match his. “I know I overreacted. Meridian I know you are strong. I know you could’ve killed Eris if you wanted. But in the Court of Nightmares your only ally was Mor. When Feyre first went to the Court of Nightmares, we were all there in case something happened. It was your first time there and you took the bait and went with Eris. It could’ve been planned. Beron and his sons could’ve been waiting for you. I was not trying to sound controlling, I was just worried.”

Meridian swallowed and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She felt ashamed that she had misinterpreted his worry and that she had allowed the ghost of what Azriel had felt for Mor come between them. She had been angry and hurt that he seemed to care more about her leaving Mor behind than her going off with Eris. But she had been blinded by her insecurities and jealousy. 

It had not all been entirely her fault. Azriel had avoided her the night before their visit to the Court of Nightmares, fueling her insecurity that he cared about Mor in ways he would never care about her. 

Meridian collected herself and glanced down at her fallen sword. “You dropped my sword.”

Azriel glanced down at the weapon and picked it up, admiring it as he handed it to her. His fingers lingered on the hilt and he traced the blue pearl on the pommel with his thumb.

“Is the pearl yours?”

“No.” 

She grabbed the sword from him and kept walking. 

“Are you still angry with me?” He asked.

“Perhaps.”

He matched her step and grabbed her free hand. When Meridian looked up at him his shoulders were more relaxed and he was smiling softly. 

“What are you smiling about?” She tried to sound angry but she failed. “I didn’t say no. A maybe means that you have to try harder. I won’t give in so easily anymore.”

“Alright,” he said, gripping her hand firmly. “I’ll try harder. “

Meridian made a dismissive sound and kept walking, pulling her hand away from his when they came across a fallen branch. She lifted up the skirt of her dress, hoping it was still intact when she returned to the Spring Court. 

“Where did you get the dress?” He questioned.

“Tamlin.”

“Why did Tamlin give you a dress?” He grunted.

“Because each of Beron’s sons sent me a dress to the Spring Court to see who I would choose,” she explained. “I’m sending them all back tomorrow morning.”

“So you wore Tamlins dress,” he said dryly. “Did he have the tailor make it just for you?” He touched the off the shoulder sleeves of embroidered roses. “It was made for a Lady of the Spring Court.”

“Well, it was his mother’s,” she stated. 

He was quiet for a few steps and when he spoke his voice was smooth and perfect, just like Meridian would make herself sound to keep her emotions and feelings hidden. “Isn’t that crossing a line? He will start thinking you’re more than his emissary.”

“It is a token of his gratitude for helping him restore his court,” she tried to suppress her pleased smirk. 

“Lucien was his emissary and best friend for decades—for centuries—I don’t think he ever handed over one of his parents relics to him.”

Meridian shrugged. “I doubt Lucien would want to wear his mother’s dress.”

She suppressed her grin when Azriel made a sound of frustration. “This is taking too long. If you’re here to help me, just take me to the border or I’ll write to Rhysand and tell him to send Cassian.”

“The longer we take to get there, the longer I have with you.”

Meridian tried to calm down her fluttering heart. “The faebane will wear off in two or three hours. They didn’t put much on my drink.”

The reminder drew out another wave of anger from the shadowsinger. “I’ll kill Eris for it.”

“It wasn’t Eris.”

“Don’t defend him.”

“It was not him,” she repeated.

“Which one of his sons was it?” He demanded.

“I know who it was and that’s enough,” she started.

That drew out another sound of frustration. 

“Are you going to take me to the border or not?” She repeated. 

Azriel sighed. “I will, if you allow me in your room.”

Meridian snorted. “When do you ever ask? You always just show up.”

The shadowsinger sighed again and stopped walking.

“Fine,” she gave in. “But you’ll have to wait until the faebane wears off in an hour or two so I can ward my bedroom.”

Reaching an agreement, Azriel lifted her up in his arms again and they traveled through the darkness of shadows and smoke. She closed her eyes, feeling the shadows surrounding her, tickling her skin. It had been centuries since she had last been engulfed by the shadows. 

They emerged in the border of the Summer and Spring Court, hidden from the guards by the shadows. Azriel lowered her to the ground and flickered a golden leaf off her hair. 

“Thank you,” Meridian said as farewell and brushed her fingers against his before turning away from him and crossing the border. 

She held her sword to her side, feeling Azriel’s eyes on her as she walked. She kept herself from turning to look for him among the shadows. 

A horse approached her, mounted by Unan. “Meridian? What are you doing here?”

“Testing our borders,” she joked. “How slow, you took a whole minute to notice me, I could have burned the whole Court down.”

The guard snorted and unmounted his horse to approach her. “What happened?” He did not wait for her to respond before shouting orders. “Tell the High Lord and Vane that I found Meridian. I’m taking her to Rosehall.”

Meridian arched her eyebrows at him. “I came by myself.”

“Well, my beautiful lady, your High Lord and Vane are waiting for you at the border of the Autumn Court and unless you went to the wrong dinner, I’m guessing something didn’t go well.”

He helped her up to his horse and mounted behind her. “Why is Vane still here?”

Unan chuckled. “I think you know why.”

She really needed to find a subtle way to let Vane know she wasn’t interested. He was handsome and kind but Meridian had someone else in her heart—even if that someone often ran her patience short. 

They arrived at the manor, Tamlin and Vane arriving a minute later as Unan helped her down from his horse. “Did they try something?” Tamlin asked while Vane asked if she was alright.

“I’m alright,” she said to both. “One of Beron’s sons put faebane on my wine so when I tried to winnow back to the border I didn’t make it. I ended up in the Summer Court somehow and walked to the border.” 

“Which one?” Tamlin questioned.

Meridian shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Beron was not very happy about it. He was trying to convince me to join the Autumn Court and returning my sword was supposed to sway me. I took the sword in exchange of letting the offence pass.”

"You should have taken the sword and killed him," said Tamlin. "I told you I would have your back if you had to kill one of them."

"It wasn't necessary," she waved her hand dismissively.

The faebane was likely the first phase of his plan. It was likely that Beron's son had planned to kill her in the forest when she was unable to winnow. But he had miscalculated the amount and had underestimated her altogether. He had not predicted how familiar she was with faebane and how many times she had consumed it in her food without a choice. Meridian could have walked away from Forest House the moment she tasted the faebane on her lips. She could have winnowed away before it affected her ability to winnow. 

She had stayed because she wanted her sword back and to make him lose face in front of his father. Meridian could've taken Shadow Caller and killed him without effort either with her sword or with the leach she had to his soul, but something told her it was not the time to use it to her advantage. 

There was also the odd feeling that her powers were not completely gone. She was sure she would be unable to winnow if she tried, but she did not feel empty or helpless at all. It wasn't just that she was in shape to fight, but she could feel power lurking beneath her skin. 

"I think they've learned their lesson," she told the three males who were still unsatisfied with her lack of concern in regards to the attempt to end her life. "I doubt they will try again. Now if you excuse me, I would like to get out of these shoes, they aren't exactly made for walking long distances." 

Meridian excused herself inside and was immediately fuzzed over by the maids, who had been eavesdropping. “What are you still doing here?” 

Nita and Rue would be gone by now, back to their home in the village. “We wanted to make sure you came back safely,” said Nita. “Well, we have seen you beating up those boys enough times to know you would come back fine, but we wanted to know if you had to beat anyone up.”

Meridian laughed. “I spared them.”

“But are you really okay?” Gretel asked. “How could they put faebane on your drink.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just need rest.”

She excused herself to her room and Siena followed her to help her remove the dress. She was relieved to see that the gown hadn’t been damaged. There was a little bit of dirt and all colors of autumn leaves stuck to the bottom of it, but Siena assured her the dirt would come off just fine. She took the dress and bowed to wash it first thing in the morning. 

Alone in her bedroom, Meridian sat in the armchair and removed the daggers strapped to her thigh and the one strapped to her ankle. She set them down on the low table and grabbed her sleep clothes. She passed by her desk and stopped to pick up a pen. 

The bathroom was only a few feet away but as she tried to winnow, she couldn’t. Meridian walked into the bathroom and set down her clothes. She knelt in front of the trash can, holding her hand above it. The pen rested in her open palm and as she closed it and thought of what she wanted to try, the pen disintegrated into ashes. 

She filed her findings away. Low doses of faebane did not affect the power from the spell book.

Meridian had stayed in the bath for a long soak. She was brushing her hair when Tamlin knocked on her door. “Come in.”

The High Lord opened the door and stepped into the doorway. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I have been force-fed faebane more times than I can count. It was a low dose.”

“It was the one whose life you own,” Tamlin stated. When she said nothing, he continued. “They all seemed trying to impress you with those dresses, and even Beron seemed to be trying to get in your good graces, he is the only one who would benefit from you dying.”

Meridian shrugged. “If someone owned my soul, I would probably try to kill them too.”

“Why are the others interested in you?” 

“Because Beron wants me to join his court and they think that if one of them manages to convince me, they’ll be favored by him.” She shook her head. “They’re trying to win my heart. Eris was more straightforward and proposed marriage.”

Tamlin pressed his head against the wall. 

Meridian set the brush down and sighed. “Yes. All of this has given me a terrible headache. But I think I got the message across. If they continue to try to woo me I might have to stab one of them.”

“Or all of them,” Tamlin suggested. He ran a hand through his blond hair and pushed himself off the wall. “I should let you rest now. Call for me if you feel unwell.”

Meridian nodded. 

She let five minutes pass after hearing his bedroom door close to lock her door and set up the ward. She got it on the first try but she did feel a slight drain of energy as she did, only a tickle, but it was there. Meridian didn’t know when Azriel would show, so she gave her hair another dry with the towel and went to sit by the window.

Instead of his usual silent arrival, Azriel flew down to her window, blending with the shadows of the night. Meridian opened the window immediately and let him in. 

“What if someone saw you!” She hissed. 

“No one did.” He said confidently.

Meridian knew how well a shadowsinger could blend in the shadows and not be spotted. Beside, Feyre had told her about his secret visits to the Spring Court to see her even if he didn’t make himself known. She decided not ask them about his little visits, she needed to be more alert. Not because Azriel was a threat to her but it offended her pride that he had been sneaking around the Spring Court unnoticed by her.

She shook head head and sat down on the bed. 

“Has it worn off?” He asked.

“No“ she said, feeling for the faebane still in her system. 

“You were able to set up the ward,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but I don’t think I could try winnowing,” she explained, then looked down at the small scratch on her knee from when she fell in the forest. “Or healing.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

But Azriel had already crossed the room to look at her scraped knee. He pressed his palm over her knee and she could feel his calluses and scars. She still wanted to make him work harder for her, but she couldn’t help but rest her palm over his. Meridian knew he did not like his hands, it was obvious in the way he kept them out of sight as best he could. Meridian hated them and loved them. She hated them because she knew her dreams were scraped memories of Azriel’s life and she was getting close to knowing where those scars had come from. Deep down, she knew who had caused them and when she thought about it she burned with fury. But she loved them because they were part of him and they made her heart flutter and her skin prickle every time he touched her. They were also a sign that he had gone through horrendous pain and had lived through it. He was alive and he was strong.

“I think I am hurt after all,” she said, holding his hand in place. “It hurts so badly I think my leg will fall off.”

Azriel’s lips twitched into a smile. He ran his fingers up her thigh and traced the hem lace of her silk shorts. “Can I stay the night?”

Meridian hummed in consideration. She couldn’t refuse him, but pretending to give it thought to it made it so she didn’t sound so amenable. “I’ll allow you to stay,”she said. “But that does not mean you’re in the clear.”

Her heart contracted in her chest as a soft, content smile broke through Azriel's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated! ❤️
> 
> Azriel, trying to figure out why Meridian is mad at him: “I have connected the dots.”  
> Rhysand watching him from the doorway: “you didn’t connect shit.”  
> Feyre: *drinks straight from the bottle of wine*
> 
> So....  
> I started writing another story (in my drafts only). I’m not sure if I’ll actually ever post it. It’s Cassian x original character. But omg there is so much angst. If you feel frustrated and impatient reading this story you will cry blood reading the Cassian fic.


	25. Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian finally reveals to the Spring Court that she has a mate, crushing the hearts of all the males under her charm.

Azriel slept at her side, his wings tucked around her, immersing her in calm darkness. Meridian fell asleep lulled in the warmth of his wings, the comforting touch of his hand in hers, and the lingering shadows. She had no dreams or nightmares. Meridian woke before him and this time she did not rouse him by caressing his winds. Instead, she found herself admiring the twists and turns of ink that were visible through the collar of his shirt. She tried to imagine the coils of his tattoos and how the patterns went down his sides and back but to her bewilderment, she could not picture them because she had never seen them. 

The shadowsinger had seen Meridian naked but he had never removed his own clothing. She felt his breathing shift but his eyes remained closed. Meridian inched closer to him, her breath ghosting over his collarbone as if she was about to kiss the exposed skin. She felt his pulse quicken under her touch and smirked as she pinched him with her nails instead of kissing him as she had made it seem. 

Azriel jolted at the sudden attack, brows furrowed as he looked at her with sleepy eyes. "What was that for?" 

"I have never seen you naked." She stated, sitting up against the headboard and drawing the bedcovers up to her chin. 

"So you pinched me?" He sputtered.

"You've seen me naked twice!" She exclaimed. 

Azriel opened his mouth, saw the way she arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to make a mistake, and opted for closing his mouth instead. He composed himself and tried again. “My shirts are more difficult to remove than your dresses?”

Meridian snorted. “Cassian just rips them off during training.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “He just likes to show off.”

Meridian stuck her hand out from under the covers so she could trace the tattoo that snuck out his shirt. “I have seen Tamlin naked but not you,” she said so causally, “it’s funny, isn’t it?”

Azriel, the smooth voice talker, choked on his own spit, staring at her with wide hazel eyes. “What? How is that—“ he snorted, rolling his tensing shoulders as he sat up. “Does he train shirtless too? I didn’t take him for—“

“He sleeps naked,” she corrected—again, keeping her voice casual. 

“When did you—“

A knock interrupted whatever he was going to say. Meridian pressed her finger to his lips briefly before getting out of bed and shrinking her wards so that they surrounded the bed instead of the entire room. 

“Meridian,” Tamlin called. “Are you alright?

“Yeah,” she called back. “I overslept.”

“If you’re feeling tired from yesterday you can take the day off,” said the High Lord. 

“I’m fine,” Meridian assured him. “I’m getting dressed.”

Tamlin hesitated. “Alright, I’ll wait for you down the training field.”

She waited until she heard him walk down the stairs to extend the wards back to the walls of her room. Then she turned to Azriel, feeling a little guilty at how pleased she felt seeing the look of jealousy on his face. He did not look very pleased to know she had seen Tamlin naked and she could see his mind whirling with the implications. But he had put her through a lot and she had been too accepting. Azriel did not need to know that she had only seen Tamlin naked because he had been drunk and naked the following morning of her arrival to the Spring Court. He should spend a few hours in jealousy. 

“I need to get dressed,” she told him. “I will see you soon—maybe.”

Meridian grabbed her leathers and locked herself in the bathroom. She went through her morning routine, brushing her teeth, washing her face, braiding her hair and slipping into the leather gear. 

To her surprise, Azriel was still there when she came out. He was sitting on the armchair, inspecting the gold dagger Tamlin had gifted her. “I thought you’d be gone,” she said grabbing her waist weapon belt from the table. 

“I see you replaced the short swords,” said Azriel, looking at the blade with scrutiny.

“I didn’t replace them,” she rolled her eyes. “I forgot them and Tamlin gifted me that one so I wouldn’t go to the Autumn Court with just the throwing daggers.”

Azriel set the gold, rose carved dagger down with clear dislike. He grabbed the throwing daggers and stood so close to her that their bodies brushed against each other as he buckled them in place. 

“When will you come back to the Night Court?” He asked.

Meridian arched her eyebrows at him. “I just got back.”

“I mean, when will you finish your job here?” He clarified. “When will you return to the Night Court to stay?”

Meridian sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps in a few months.”

“How many more?”

Meridian shrugged. “Five or six, I am not sure.”

“That is not a  _ few _ months,” he grunted. 

She smiled because his brows were furrowed and his lips were pressed in displeasure. He looked cute. Meridian pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled away, her heart fluttering as she caught the way his shoulders and face relaxed with the gesture. 

“I’ll be back for another week in a month,” she promised. “I have to go now, the children are waiting.”

“I’ll come back,” he told her. Not explaining himself as the shadows swallowed him up.

…

It was lunch time and Vane had joined them for the meal at the manor. The other trainees that weren’t on shift were also sitting at the table. Tamlin sat in the head and Meridian sat at his right. Rion sat next to her, making conversation. 

Meridian had encouraged for them to eat at the table with her and Tamlin to build trust and restore the High Lord’s image and it was working.

“Why do you visit the Night Court?” Rion bluntly asked.

Meridian felt all eyes on her. “I have friends there,” she answered and sipped her glass of wine. 

“But I hear you go every month,” he said. “Isn’t that too frequent?”

Meridian arched her eyebrows at him. “I live there, so I would say I don’t go home frequently enough.”

Rion frowned. “How can your home be there when you spend most of your time here? You’re the Spring Court’s emissary.”

It was true Meridian spent most of her time in the Spring Court and even if she enjoyed training and building a new guard and even if Tamlin was not horribly bad to be around, the Spring Court was not her home. It did not feel like home. Being the Spring Court emissary was a job, a position, but it did not make her feel at home. Home was the feeling of going back to the Night Court even if it was only for a week. Home was having dinner with the inner circle. Home was training with Cassian and shopping with Mor and Feyre, it was bickering with Rhysand, helping Elain in the kitchen, watching Azriel while trying not to be watched by Amren. 

Home was being cared for by Feyre; forgetting about everything when she danced with Morrigan; having Cassian to fall back to; rolling her eyes at Rhysand though her loyalty lay with him and she was grateful that his promise had kept her fighting spirit alive; it was Amren keeping her on her toes; it was Elain’s soft ways that made her feel calm and at peace; home was Azriel’s shadows and his wings curling around her as they slept.

“Meridian can do as she pleases in her time off,” said Tamlin. “She is not from the Spring Court and yet she’s an excellent emissary.”

“Lucien was not from the Spring Court,” said Rion. “But it became his home.” He eyed Meridian curiously. “Do you have a family at the Night Court? A lover?”

All of the guards seemed to have paused their eating, waiting for her response. Vane was trying to hide his interest, but he kept glancing at her from across the table. 

Meridian chuckled. “Is that what you were trying to get at?” She was wondering when it would be a good time to mention that it was not only friends that she had at the Night Court. One day she would have to tell Tamlin that she was leaving for good. Perhaps it was time to warn him that she wouldn’t stay forever. He seemed to be going too familiar with her. “Well, for anyone wondering, I have a mate. He is from the Night Court.”

She continued to eat, ignoring the sound of choking, drinks being spat, and the feeling of shocked stares. 

…

Meridian and Tamlin had done their usual sweep of the lands and had stopped in the middle of a clearing. It was almost a perfect circle surrounded by trees. The clearing was green grass and wildflowers of all kinds and colors. Deciding it was a perfect place to talk, she unmounted her horse and Tamlin followed. 

"You keep staring at me," said Meridian as she sat down on the grass. "If something is bothering you I rather talk about it."

Tamlin sat down next to her. "You never said you had a mate."

"You never asked," she pointed out. "Besides, it's complicated." 

“How so?” He asked.

“I met him when I left for the Night Court,” she said. “You know the state I was in when I arrived to Prythian. Meeting my destined mate was not exactly in my plans and they were not on his either.”

“Are you...together?” He asked carefully.

Meridian sighed. “We are trying. But it is a recent development of this last visit.”

Tamlin did not say anything for a while, they just stared at the flowers around them, blues and whites and blue violets. From his body language she could tell the news had been unexpected to him and he was still a little shocked, but he did not seem upset. 

“Are you okay with being away from him for so long?” The High Lord asked when he finally spoke. “Is he okay with you being here?”

Meridian snorted. “I became your emissary before he even started acknowledging me as his mate. He has no say in what I do.”

He nodded his head. “But you do not plan to stay for long. One day you’ll go to the Night Court and not come back.”

“Will you miss me?” She smiled at him, she needed the conversation to go well. Meridian let out another sigh for effect and laid back on the grass, her hands behind her head. “I told you when I came here that I wanted to help protect the borders. That is what I am doing. You named me your emissary and I hope I’ve been filling the title. I would never abandon my duties. I will not leave and not come back without a say. I enjoy my job here, checking the borders, training your new sentinels, telling you to smile,” Tamlin shook his head at the last one but the corners of his mouth twitched. “But I won’t stay forever. I want to settle down, make a home of my own. If it goes well with my mate, I might leave at the end of the year. Besides you don’t need me anyways—“

“The only reason we have sentinels to train is because you’re here,” said Tamlin. 

“That’s not true,” she said, sitting up to look at him directly. “They are here because you accepted your mistake and because you asked them to protect the borders to protect their home, not for you.”

Tamlin shook his head. “If it weren’t for you I would still be drinking alone in the manor.”

“Well, if it weren’t for you the naga or another nasty creature would’ve found me in the woods and carved me up just for fun,” she said, referring to when she had first arrived at the Spring Court after leaving Hybern, too weak to winnow to the Night Court. 

“I attacked you,” Tamlin reminded her, his voice thick with regret. 

“A few scratches,” she waved her hand dismissively. “You also fed me three times a day and gave me a bed to sleep. You let me stay in your court until I was well enough to travel.”

Tamlin ran his hand through his hair. “When you first came back I couldn’t even recognize you.” He looked down at her body. “You were so thin and you came back with the strength to knock me off my feet.” He stared at her for a long moment and looked away with a sigh. “I wonder if there is a spell on my Court, my… emissaries seemed to be fated to find their mate in the Night Court.”

Meridian turned away. “Before I leave I’ll help you find a new emissary. I’m sure you don’t need my help for that but I’m not one to leave a vacant post. Of course you won’t find another as great and pretty as me, but I’m sure we’ll find a good replacement.”

Tamlin smiled but the curve of his lips and the slump of his shoulders made the smile seem downcast. He cut a yellow flower and handed it to her. “You should take it easy today. I’ll go back first. I did not do a head count of how many hearts you broke when you let us on your little secret.”

“I am not sure I know what you mean,” she looked up at him as he rose from the ground, not bothering to dust his pants.

Tamlin arched his eyebrows, lips twisted in a sideways smirk. “Oh I think you know. Orson did not even protest when I told him to stay behind for the border check and Vane went back to his post rather quietly after lunch. I think I heard Nita say they were going to make an extra sweet dessert for dinner because it is the best medicine for broken hearts.” 

Meridian laughed and laid back on the ground, twirling the yellow flower between her fingers. “They are not in love with me. They just admire my ability to kick their asses.”

“Vane was going to invite you to the Summer Court,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Stay out here until Nita and Gretel are done sweeping the shreds of their broken hearts,” Tamlin called as he mounted his horse.

Meridian snorted. “You’d make a bad poet.”

“You are a great muse,” he chuckled before taking off on his horse. 

Meridian rolled her eyes. She didn’t mind staying out if it meant avoiding dramatic males. Vane and Orson were the only one she could believe sincere feelings from, but anyone else who claimed a broken heart from her had just wanted to bed her. 

“What happened to my competition?” 

Meridian bolted up to her knees, hand on the dagger strapped on her waist. She stared and Azriel with an incredulous look. “What are you doing here?” She sputtered. 

“I said I’ll be back,” he reminded her, walking across the clearing to sit down across from her. 

“But you—how long were you there?” She glared at him. How could she have missed his presence? It was unacceptable. 

“Since he gave you the flower,” he said, eyeing the yellow flower on her hand with disdain.

“Yellow flowers mean friendship,” she informed him, tucking the flower behind her ear.

Azriel snorted. “Is he teaching you the language of flowers now?”

Meridian rolled her eyes at him, but was secretly enjoying the jealousy lanced on his tone. “Elain told me that.”

The shadowsinger cut a blue flower and replaced the yellow tucked behind her ear. He intended to throw the yellow flower but she took it from him and paced it behind her other ear to his disappointment. 

“You didn’t answer,” Azriel stared at her eyes. “What happened to my competition? It heard him say you broke their hearts.”

Meridian shrugged. “I simply mentioned I wasn’t available for a relationship.”

“Vane, Orson, and who else?” Azriel asked.

“You don’t need to know.”

The shadowsinger took her hand and opened her palm. He placed a small white box and propped the lid open. It was a small dessert with strawberries on top. 

“What’s this?” She couldn’t suppress the smile on her face. “Didn’t you hear just now? You don’t have any more competition.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “I thought I should bring you something,” he said, handing her a spoon.

He was looking at her rather anxiously and it was easy to read the expression on his face. He was waiting for approval. Meridian dug the spoon into the dessert, making sure to grab some strawberry before taking it to her mouth. She closed her eyes in bliss, saving the memory of her and Azriel, surrounded by flowers as he offered her a dessert made of her favorite fruit. 

When she opened her eyes Azriel was watching her, he looked away quickly and cleared his throat. “Did you like it?”

Meridian dug in the spoon again and offered it to Azriel. The shadowsinger blushed but his shadows were a little too slow, allowing her to see his ears turn pink. “You shouldn’t offer me food—not until you accept the mate bond.”

Meridian’s smile dropped. She shoved the spoon in her mouth, not hiding her disappointment. “I didn’t even make it.”

If only he knew Tamlin had eaten her unseasoned food and called it good. She wondered what he would say if he knew Meridian had personally offered Tamlin the cakes she had made for Summer Solstice. It was the shadowsinger who insisted she wait to accept the mate bond, Meridian already knew that there was nothing that would make her not want Azriel at her side. 

Meridian was patient when it came to missions but not when it came to her life. If she was certain of something she did not wait or delayed it. When she decided to leave Lord Terron and Arron, she did not wait around. She walked away and didn’t turn back. If she was not certain of her feelings for Azriel, then she would definitely agree that it was best to wait. Perhaps that was why Azriel wanted to wait. Meridian did believe he had feelings for her, but perhaps he did not feel the certainty she felt. He had loved Morrigan for Mother knows how long; Meridian couldn’t blame him for it. As long as Azriel wanted her, she would wait for him as long as necessary.

“It’s from the bakery close to your place,” he said, guiding the conversation away from their mate bond. “I was there, helping Cassian move.”

Meridian hummed, taking another bite. “Tell Cassian to move my things too.” 

“I’ll ask Cerridwen to pack your belongings,” he suggested instead. 

Meridian finished off the dessert and disposed of the cardboard box by disintegrating it on her palm. Azriel stared in amazement. “That is...helpful.”

“Creepily so,” she agreed and handed him the spoon, “I suppose you want it back. Or I can do the same trick twice.”

“I can take it.”

They stood up from the ground, taking their time to dust their pants just so they could stay together for a little longer. Meridian wished she could stay longer, but they could not risk someone seeing them together in the Spring Court. 

Meridian took the last two steps between them and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for the dessert and the visit.”

“I will try to come again in a few days,” he whispered, pressing his palm against her cheek.

Meridian leaned into the touch. “Don’t get caught,” she warned. “If you do, I’ll tell Tamlin I don't know you.”

Azriel chuckled. 

With a last brush of his fingers against her jaw, Meridian turned away and walked towards her horse. As she mounted the horse, Azriel walked back to the tall trees that surrounded the forest, smiling softly at her before blending into the shadows. 

  
...

That night Meridian sat at the floor, her back leaning against the bed as she held her sword, fingers tracing down the blade and up again to the hilt. She traced the blue pearl in the pommel, a gift from her brother. She had commissioned the best sword maker to add the pearl to the pommel of her sword so she would always carry her brother with her.

At the end, it hadn’t been a great idea given all the lives she has taken with Shadow Call. Would her brother be disappointed to see how she turned out? A twister of truths capable of killing if deemed necessary? She wondered if her brother could see what she had become. Had he followed through her life, watching her from the pearl he left behind? What did he think when she was gone for five hundred years? What did he think of Azriel? 

“Garen,” she whispered, her lips brushing the pearl. “I have a mate, his name is Azriel. He is a shadowsinger like I was…” 

Meridian didn’t know if her brother was listening from wherever he had gone after he died, but she told him about Azriel anyway. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Meridian, watching Azriel sleep: (✿ ♥‿♥)  
> Meridian, realizing she has never seen him naked: (≖︿≖✿) (╯◕_◕)╯
> 
> There are some comments asking about who sent Meridian to the Autumn Court during the War to convince Beron to fight. Someone even even quoted chapter 16 “there was no use in discussing things of the past, if she told them who had told her to go to the Autumn Court, more questions would arise.”
> 
> The mystery of who sent her will be revealed later in the story ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ
> 
> Thank you everyone for the supporting and loving comments. You make my day!


	26. Soft Whispers of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian worries when Azriel does not return like he promised.

Azriel did visit again a few days later. He had found her out in the forest, doing a post check by herself. Tamlin was with Vane, discussing guard posts and shifts. Meridian usually went with him to discuss those things but she needed Tamlin to start making more decisions on his own so she told him she would go do a sweep. Vane’s spirit seemed to have plummeted since Meridian announced she had a mate and Orson was no better. It was flattering but Meridian’s analytical mind couldn’t help but wonder if they would still like her if they knew her without the masks and pretentious smiles.

Would they think differently of her if they knew who she really was? A truth spinner, a deceiver of High Lords. Would they still be interested if they knew what happened to her in Hybern? Would they still consider her pretty if they saw the scars on her back? 

They didn’t know anything about her. Azriel did not know everything about her, but he knew who she really was under the masks. Meridian was herself when she was in the Night Court and with Azriel ever since he had told her he wouldn’t leave her side. The shadowsinger also knew about her life in Vallahan. He knew she wore many masks and that her job was to twist truths. He was aware of her scars even if he had not seen them. He had seen how broken she was when she arrived at the Night Court.

Azriels visit has been short because it was too risky for him to stay when the sun was still out. Meridian had scolded him for taking the risk but the shadowsinger had simply smiled and caressed her cheek, promising to come back in a few days. Apparently he was busy, but he had wanted to see her even if it was for a few minutes. 

“Next time you come wait until after sunset,” she had scolded, though her heart was fluttering at his words. 

Azriel had left and when Meridian made it to the next post her cheeks were still pink. 

…

Two weeks later, Meridian was sitting on the grass, waiting to start morning training. She had dreamt of Azriel again. She was young Azriel locked in a cell, his wings twitching from the desire to break free and fly into the sky, though it was a feeling he had never experienced. After she woke up from the dream she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep so she had a round with Tamlin. 

Azriel had not come back as he had promised. At first Meridian had been angry and annoyed that he had broken his promise but after a week she was just worried. She had pondered for days if she should write to Rhysand. Meridian was certain that if something had happened to Azrie he would let her know. Rhysand seemed set on playing matchmaker, there was no way he wouldn’t tell her if Azriel was hurt. 

The shadowsinger had mentioned he was busy that last time he had visited her during the day. He had only stayed a few minutes so perhaps he couldn’t spare the time to visit her anymore.

Every night, Meridian went to sleep wondering what the spymaster was doing that was keeping him so busy. When she was in the Night Court she never asked about his duties because she had once had similar responsibilities when she lived in Vallahan and everyone knew not to ask her what she was up to. 

She knew they had spies in the continent, watching out for possible threats to the mortal lands. Thinking of all the possible tensions and conflicts that could arise if any lord from the continent got too curious about the mortals kept Meridian awake all night or gave her nightmares that woke her up before sunrise. 

The previous night she had finally swallowed her pride and wrote a vague note to Rhysand. 

_ How are things at the Night Court? _

The High Lord had taken a few minutes to reply.

_ Great, why do you ask? _

Meridian could see the smirk on his face even from the distance of all the courts between them. 

_ No reason. _

She had replied.

The High Lord had not replied for several minutes after that and Meridian had given up and was about to go to bed when another note appeared.

_ Everyone is good. Azriel is very busy, but fine—in case you were wondering.  _

Meridian let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding and went to bed after that. 

Tamlin came to sit down next to her.

The males were doing their stretches while Meridian and Tamlin watched. Three new High Fae had arrived a few days back to join the Spring Court guards. One of them had been Tamlin one of sentinels before, the other two were decent fighters, but they still needed to train more. 

Meridian was redoing her braid when she spotted a figure walking their way. It was a female. She approached them but stopped at a good distance, no one but her and Tamlin had noticed her yet. Meridian could make out her heart shaped face and brown hair from where she stood. She wore pants and a plain gray shirt. 

“Do you think she’s looking for a job?” Tamlin questioned. 

Meridian shrugged. “I think she’s trying to decide on something.”

“Should you go talk to her?”

Meridian shook her head. “She will come when she’s ready.”

Meridian told the males to pair up and Tamlin started giving orders. She stood watching, calling out mistakes while Tamlin walked around. She could feel the female watching her with hesitant eyes. After ten minutes of observing, the female seemed to build up her courage and approached Meridian.

The female was an inch shorter than Meridian and her eyes were green. “I—I—my name is Maude. I was there that day—at the tavern. You said females were allowed to join.”

“You want to join the Spring Court guard?” Meridian asked in delight.

Maude nodded her head. “Are females really allowed to join?”

“Yes,” Meridian assured her. “I am glad you decided to come.”

“Well,” Maude glanced at the males training, “I don’t actually know how to fight.”

Meridian glared at the trainees that were more concerned with the conversation she and Maude were having than with training. They caught her glare and scrambled to go back to their forms. Tamlin covered his chuckle with a cough. 

“That’s alright,” she assured the female, and loudly added, “a lot of them were all talk no show when they first arrived.”

She ignored the mumbles of protest, not of them loud enough because they had all been knocked down their feet by Meridian at least once. 

“I didn’t know what I should wear,” said Maude, looking at Meridians leathers and at her own clothing.

“That is fine for now,” said Meridian. “I’ll get you some gear later when you have the basics down. First, let’s get your warmups done.”

“We’re going to start now?” Maude sputtered.

“Do you not want to?” Meridian asked.

“No—yes!” She blushed. “I just thought—I wasn’t even sure you would let me stay.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” said Meridian. “I can start teaching you the basics right now and we will talk later about all the details and personal information. Or you can sit it out and we will talk when training is over and start tomorrow.”

“No! I want to start now,” she nodded to herself.

“Great,” Meridian smiled reassuringly.

…

Meridian and Tamlin were at the dining table discussing the trainees progress and altering border guard shifts. It was late, Gretel had left them a pot of hot tea before retiring to bed. Meridian was on her third cup. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her braid long undone. 

“Definitely Orson and Amir,” Meridian was saying.

They were discussing which guards had graduated from being trainees and were trusted enough to be proper sentinels in charge of guard shifts. Vane and Unan were in charge of all guards on their corresponding shifts, including those from the Spring Court. For now they would keep it that way, but someday when the Summer Court left, they would need leaders of their own. 

Meridian and Tamlin were determined who deserved an official rank promotion. Other Spring Court guards would report to them and they would report to Vane and Unan. 

“What about Rion?” Tamlin asked.

“He’s fine too,” she agreed. “His attitude problem has improved. I don’t think I’ll go to his head.”

“If it does, you can always knock some sense into him,” Tamlin said. 

“You don’t even have to ask,” she snorted. 

She pushed away her cold tea and stretched her arms. Tamlin started piling up the papers on the table. “Maude seems to be doing alright,” said Tamlin. “Do you think more females will join?”

It had been a week since Maude arrived at the manor, she had made decent progress. It was not much, but it was good enough for someone learning to fight for the first time. She was dedicated and even stayed with Meridian longer after the males were done. 

“I hope so,” said Meridian.

“When will you have her join training with the others?” Tamlin wondered. Meridian always took Maude aside to train alone while Tamlin supervised the males training. “They are curious about her.” 

Meridian scoffed. “Curious. They better not bother her or scare her off. She’s doing good but she can’t stand in a fight yet. But you should start watching her training too so she doesn’t feel lost when I leave.”

Tamlin nodded in agreement. 

“I think I’ll have her join the others once I return,” she considered. “But I’ll train with her alone this following week too.”

“Sounds good,” Tamlin agreed. 

They picked up after themselves and climbed up the stairs to their rooms. Tamlin stopped at her door. “It’s late, try to sleep until sunrise. But if you can’t—just knock on my door if you want to train.” 

“Thank you,” she nodded her head gratefully. 

“Good night,” said Tamlin and headed to his room. 

Meridian’s room was dark so she headed for the window, settling for the moonlight instead of burning candles. As she crossed the room and opened the curtains, she felt a buzz of anticipation under her skin. Silver light streamed into the room as she parted the curtains, but instead of focusing on the illuminated parts of her room, her gray eyes searched the shadows. 

Azriel sat in the corner of her room, resting on the armchair, hazel eyes watching her, lips warm with a soft smile. Meridian felt her heart soar inside her chest at the mere sight of him. She threw the wards around her room and walked towards him, all tiredness washing away, consumed by her joy. 

“What are you doing here?” She breathed out, sitting on top of the low table. 

“I wanted to see you,” he said, his voice as breathless as hers. He leaned forward and touched his palm to her cheek. 

“Where have you been?” She questioned. “If you’re busy you could’ve waited until next week when I go back.”

So she said, but leaned against his touch and her words were weak, soft spoken protests. “I told you I’d come again and I couldn’t,” said Azriel, his voice strained, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” 

His touch was making her skin tingle, she wanted more. “Rhysand said you haven’t reported any incidents here.”

“Everything is fine here,” she confirmed. “Has something happened? Rhysand said the Night Court was fine. Is it in the continent? Is that why you have been so busy?”

“I don’t want to talk about that now,” he shook his head. “I just want to—I missed you.”

Meridian felt her skin flush as her heart beat faster in her chest. “I missed you too.”

Azriel knelt down in front of her, leaning forward to bury his face on her neck. His arms went around her, holding her flush against him as he breathed in. 

Meridian rested her head against his, feeling the beat of his heart as it beat against hers. “Will you kiss me?” She whispered just over his ear. “You haven’t kissed me since I got drunk. Actually I think you’ve only kissed me when drinking was involved and I’m starting to think you think you won’t kiss me until I drink—“

Azriel cupped her face and kissed her. Meridian gasped against the sudden kiss but quickly recovered, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving her lips against his. Azriel’s entire body relaxed. His muscles melted under her touch as if he had been held by pin needles and she had finally released him. He let go of her cheek just so he could place his palm on the low of her back, pressing her closer to him. 

When they pulled away, Meridian caressed his cheek and he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering close. She noticed then how tired he looked, the dark under his eyes, the drop of his shoulders and his wings. 

“You look tired,” she whispered.

Azriel leaned against her, resting his head in her shoulder, head crooked to the side so his nose brushed against her neck. Meridian shivered when his lips brushed her skin.

“Can you stay the night?” She asked

“Yes,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s go to bed then,” she suggested.

The shadowsinger made a hum of agreement but did not move from his position, half sprawled against her. Meridian tried to get up but his weight held her in place. “You know, if we break this table I don’t know how I’ll explain it to Tamlin.”

“Don’t talk about Tamlin,” he grunted.

Meridian arched her eyebrows. “We’re at his manor.”

“Don’t talk about him right now.” His lips brushed against her neck when he spoke, making her shiver. 

“Alright then,” she patted his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”

He hummed but again he did not move.

Meridian chuckled. “Do you want me to carry you?” 

“You can’t.”

“You’re lighter than Cassian, I can try if you’re being a tried baby.”

“Are you saying I’m less muscled?” He grunted.

“Different body types?”

Azriel snorted. “Don’t talk about Cassian.”

Meridian let out a laugh and covered her mouth. “Why?”

The shadowsinger pulled away from her and stood up, he scooped her up by her thighs and carried her to bed. “He says he’s your favorite.” 

Meridian laughed again. 

Azriel lowered her on the bed gently and looked down at her with arched eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be denying it?”

Meridian turned to her side, so she would face him as he laid down next to her. “I rather not admit or deny. You’re a spymaster, you should know silence is always the best answer.”

Azriel grabbed her hand and Meridian knew he would hide their linked palms under the pillow to hide his scars. Before he could, Meridian moved a little closer to him and held their interlocked hands to her chest. 

"Good night," she pressed a kiss to his cheek and closed her eyes.

  
  


Meridians dreams weren’t entirely pleasant, but at least she had not been startled awake. When she woke up the next morning, Azriel was awake, watching her with a soft look. Meridian forgot about her unpleasant dreams and pulled the covers up to her nose—all without letting go of their still intertwined hands. 

“Is the sun up?” She asked. His wings were wrapped around her. Azriel retracted his wings and twilight painted light streamed through the window. “Have you been awake for long?” She asked.

“A little,” the shadowsinger husked. His fingers gently brushed aside the white hair that was falling over her face. “You were having bad dreams.”

Meridian averted her gaze. “I don’t even remember what I was dreaming.”

“Does it happen often—the nightmares?” The question was careful and softly spoken. 

Meridian let go of his hand, not meeting his hazel gaze. Her instincts were to put her a mask over her troubled expression, to hide the parts of her that were broken. For a brief second she did, but before the mask could settle and sink in, Azriel touched her face. Meridian held her breath as he traced her nose up to her brow and dropped down to the side of her face to trace her jaw. 

“Meridian,” he whispered her name, “you can tell me. I want you to know that you don't have to hide from me. I know I haven't earned your trust, but from now on I won't pull away from you. I told you I would stay by your side and I intend to keep that promise." He brushed her hair behind her ear and continued. “I want to know all about you. It doesn’t have to be now—you don’t have to tell me everything at once. But I want you to know that I am here.”

Meridian closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. The tears that had gathered at the corner of her eyes fell across her face. Azriel wiped them away and brushed a kiss on her forehead.

“Will you tell me about you?” She whispered.

Azriel nodded his head. “I will tell you everything you want to know.”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” he promised.

The sun rose a little higher and Meridian knew they only had a few minutes left before he had to leave and she had to dress for training. She wished that she hadn’t had sleep all night and stayed up talking to him, but he had been so tired. 

“I have to change into my leathers,” she said regretfully. “Training starts soon.”

“Let the  _ High Lord _ handle his own people,” he suggested. “He is too attached and dependent on you.”

“It’s my job to be there,” she reminded him. “He made me his emissary.”

Azriel’s body tensed. “But you shouldn’t let him depend on you for everything and you shouldn’t let him give you gifts.”

Meridian arched her eyebrows, amused and undeniably pleased by the obvious jealousy. “The dress was a statement,” she said. “Beron’s sons wanted me to choose one of them by wearing one of the dresses they each sent me. Tamlin gave me the dress to wear as a statement that I am his court’s emissary and I am not accepting any of their proposals.”

The shadowsinger sat up, running his hand over his hair. “It can also be him telling them that you belong to him.”

Meridian sighed and sat up. It was not the time to mention that Eris suspected Tamlin to be her mate. “You sound ridiculous.”

Azriel only grunted. Meridian traced circles around his knuckles and moved closer so that their thighs were touching. She had gone to bed in leggings because the shadowsinger’s surprise visits had not given her time to change into her sleep clothes. 

“I saw the collection of earrings you have,” he said flatly, “there all from him aren’t they?”

“Do you think his gifts will buy me?” She questioned, looking directly into his eyes.

“What—no.” He replied quickly. Azriel let out a long sigh and touched his other palm to her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He let out another sigh. “I don’t know why—I can’t stop myself from feeling angry when I see the gifts he’s given you or the burning in my chest when you said the dress was his mother’s.”

Meridian leaned against his touch and crawled up to him, sitting on his lap, smiling softly at his startled gasp when she pressed her whole body against him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her chin to the crook of his neck. 

The shadowsinger rested his palm on her back and the tension went out of him as smoothly as his shadows. She understood now why Feyre called the Illyrians babies, but she didn’t mind coddling her shadowsinger. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> Sorry for the late update but this has been a busy week. I hope you’re enjoy the fluffy chapters!


	27. Twister of Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian returns to the Night Court where her shadowsinger awaits. But as a new member of the Inner Circle, she must endure their scoldings —it all comes with the territory of belonging to a family.

Meridian did not pack much for the Night Court as she prepared to return for a week. She took her daggers and her sword, leaving behind the golden, rose carved dagger Tamlin had gifted her tucked away in the armoire. She packed the dress she borrowed from Elain and wore brown pants over a white tunic shirt with gold embroidery at the hems. She had skipped training and revised some documents instead. She left her notes in Tamlin’s bedroom and dressed for her departure. She heard the High Lord ascending the stairs and grabbed her bag. 

The emissary opened the door and waited for him. He was pulling his damp shirt up, with the intention of pulling it off completely but he stopped when he saw her. 

“Won’t you stay for breakfast?” He asked.

Meridian shook her head slightly. “Those boys drag it out for as long as they can.”

Tamlin nodded. “They seem to be over the heartbreak.”

Meridian snorted and stepped closer, pulling Tamlin’s shirt down. “Don’t undress until you get to your bedroom, where are your manners?”

Tamlin’s ears flushed red. “I smell.”

He did. There was sweat running down his neck and the smell was all around them. His scent was cut wood, green grass, and damp earth, but it was currently overpowered by the salty smell of sweat. Meridian wrinkled her nose. “Remember there are females around and the boys will take to walking around shirtless as well if they see you. They already intimidate Maude enough as it is.” Tamlin scratched the back of his head, looking like a scolded child. Meridian sighed. “How did she do today?”

“She was a little tense at first but I told her to do as you always instruct her,” he informed her. “I think she’ll be alright.”

Meridian hummed. “Do not let the boys hover around but don’t isolate her either.”

Tamlin nodded understandingly. “They will be on their best behavior,” his lips twitched with a slight smile. “They know better than to risk your wrath.”

Meridian hummed, pleased by the comment. "I better go now before I get swarmed by them."

"See you in a week," said Tamlin, stepping aside to let her proceed to the stairs. 

Meridian said her farewells to the maids and stepped out the manor. She winnowed to her apartment in the Night Court, instead of the House of Wind. One minute she was standing outside Rosehall and the next she stood outside her apartment building. 

She was home.

Meridian stepped into the building and went up the stairs, her stomach fluttering. She and Azriel had plans for breakfast. Since Cassian was out most mornings, Azriel had promised to be at the apartment when she arrived, breakfast ready for the two of them. 

She fixed up her shirt and wished she had worn the blue dress instead. Elain wouldn’t mind her wearing it again, she had even told her to keep it. Perhaps Azriel would give her some time to change into clothes that weren’t Spring Court fashion. Clearing her throat, Meridian pulled herself together. The white haired female had not even taken her key due to her sudden departure so she had to knock on the door of her apartment.

The door was opened almost immediately and Meridian had her smile ready for the shadowsinger. But as the door opened, she was greeted by a different Illyrian and pulled into a bone crushing hug. 

“Mer-Mer,” Cassian sighed into the hug. “Why did you leave so suddenly. Do you know how worried we all were? And you went to the Autumn Court on your own?” He scolded her while squeezing the air out of her lungs. Meridian burrowed her chin against the crook of his neck so he could the a very annoyed Azriel standing in the kitchen, in front of the dining table set with three plates. She smiled at him and he returned the gesture with a smile of his own. Cassian then proceeded to squeeze her tighter. “What were you thinking going there alone? And why didn’t you kill Beron’s sons for putting faebane in your drink?” 

“You’re suffocating me, bastard!” Meridian punched him in the rib and freed herself from his hug.

“Why didn’t you kill Eris—“

“It wasn’t Eris,” she interrupted.

“It was the one whose life you hold,” said Azriel, ever helpful. She sent a look his way. “If you would just tell us which one—“

“No,” she refused and covered Cassian’s mouth as he opened it to protest. “If you’re done with the interrogations I’d like to eat.”

She dropped her bag on the armchair and removed her weapons, placing them on the coffee table. 

“Is that the famous sword?” Cassian tried to grab it but she slapped his hand away. "It's rude to touch another warrior's weapon."

Cassian raised his hand in mock surrender, but he eyed the sword until she turned him away towards the open dining room. Meridian went to sit down, eyeing the still warm breakfast. 

“We will have a talk later,” said Cassian, sitting across from her. She rolled her eyes at him. She didn’t think he meant about the sword, it was likely about the previous topic—about her visit to the Autumn Court and the faebane that had found its way into her drink. 

Azriel sat at her side, brushing her hand slightly. 

“It is good to see you,” he said with a soft smile, as if he had not seen her two nights ago when he visited her to propose breakfast together at the apartment.

“It’s nice to be back.”

“Wait until Mor sees you,” Cassian scoffed. He was piling his plate unapologetically as Azriel watched him with disdain.

The shadowsinger started piling Meridian’s plate and then his own. Cassian caught the gesture and pushed more food towards her. “Az here was nice enough to bring us breakfast.”

“Thank you,” she said, brows raised in a silent question.

Azriel shook his head slightly. She turned back to Cassian, deciding to question the shadowsinger later. She had to suppress her grin from the anticipation of hearing how Cassian had ruined his plan, just watching the shadowsinger looking at the other Illyrian with annoyance was an assurance that it was going to make her smile and tease the brooding spymaster.

“What about Mor?” Meridian finally questioned the Illyrian’s comment.

Cassian smirked. “She’s pissed at you for running off and for going to the Autumn Court alone. If that useless High Lord didn’t want to go, you should’ve told Rhysand and he would’ve sent me or Az.”

“Tamlin didn’t refuse to go,” she defended. “I didn’t ask him because it was something I had to handle alone.”

“And they tried to poison you,” said Cassian. “What if you hadn’t been able to get out of there?”

Meridian rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Cassian looked at her firmly. “Yes, you can handle yourself, but that doesn’t mean we won’t worry about you. We are family now and even if we know we are capable, we worry about one another.”

Meridian felt a rush of emotion go through her.  _ Family _ . They were her family. It seemed like Meridian’s fate had been tied to the Night Court in more ways than one. Her mate and her family—a real family, not like what she had found in Vallahan. She could not deny that Vallahan had felt like home and Lord Terron and Arron had felt like family. But she had always been for Lord Terron to use and command as he wished and she had always felt obliged to please Arron because he was the son of her Lord. The Night Court had easily felt like home and though she would also follow Rhysand as her High Lord, she also had freedom. She felt emotionally connected to the Night Court and the Inner Circle. Rhysand was not just her High Lord, he was a friend and family. 

“I appreciate you worrying about me,” she got a grip of her voice. “But everything went well so there isn't a need to make a big deal about it.”

“It went well?” Cassian said in disbelief. 

“Cassian,” Azriel intervened. “Let her eat, we can talk about it later.”

“Or not,” Meridian suggested.

…

Both Illyrians had business to attend to, so they left after breakfast. Azriel gave her a promising look as he left, a wordless promise of finding his way to her later. Meridian settled into her room. Her clothes had neatly been folded or hung in the armoire by the twins. Azriel’s shirt was included as well. The white haired female removed her Spring Court attire and changed into a pink dress. 

She went back into the sitting room to retrieve her weapons. There was a sword stand on top of her desk, she didn’t know who had bought it, but she was thankful for it as she placed her sword. 

Meridian caressed the pearl wishfully, the smoke and shadows dancing around the sword tickling her fingers. Shadow Caller had accompanied her to every battle since she was fifteen and it had hurt to part from it after they ripped it away from her hand. 

Beron had been wise to lock it away in a display. No one could wield Shadows Caller except her. She had fought for the sword and earned her right to wield it. Many nobles and courtiers at the Vallahan liked to say it was a present from Lord Terron to his most trusted warrior. But the Lord's closest guard knew what had really happened. Lord Terron had sent Meridian to fight a creature of death and darkness a day before her fifteenth birthday. At the end she had walked out alive with Shadow Caller as a prize. 

Lord Terron had praised her. She had passed the test. He named her his emissary and told her to keep the sword as a reward.

The following day there had been a birthday celebration. She had worn a blue dress and her new sword. The nobles fuzzed over her, telling her how lucky she was to be spoiled by the Lord. Young males introduced themselves, likely obliged by their parents. They were cautious about the girl of shadows, but compelled by the idea of marrying their children to Lord Terron’s favorite. 

Meridian pushed the past away and turned away from the sword. She buckled the thigh belt and secured her daggers before leaving the room. The Illyrians had mentioned that Lucien was in Velaris, so she had left a little room for tea and dessert when she ate. 

She grabbed the slip of paper where Cassian had written the address and left the apartment. She locked the door and turned away but stopped. She turned back to face the door and extended her hands in front of her. Meridian called the spell, thinking of what she wanted. A spell similar to the one she used in her bedroom at Rosehall, but stronger and more complex. 

Meridian lifted a ward around the apartment, one that would recognize all the members of the Inner Circle, allowing them to enter without a key. Satisfied, she turned away and left. 

Lucien opened the door and looked surprised to see her. Meridian hugged him and kissed his cheek and the redhead held the door open and invited her in. His place was smaller, but cozy. There was not much furniture or decorations, which spoke to the little time he spent in the apartment. 

“Did you return today?” He asked.

Meridian nodded. “Just a few hours ago.”

Lucien closed the door and turned to her without meeting her gaze. “Rhysand told me what happened at the Autumn Court.”

“It was just an unpleasant night,” she shrugged it off. “Everyone is making it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he said, finally looking at her face. “He put faebane in your drink.” 

“Not enough to kill me,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I suspect he wanted me wobbly enough to corner me and propose the same deal Eris did.”

Meridian suspected he had wanted her weak enough so he could attack her in the forest, but Lucien did not need to worry his pretty head over that. Meridian was not a fan of making people feel guilty about the sins of their family. 

Lucien shook his head and let out a long breath. “I can’t believe Eris proposed marriage.”

Meridian snorted. “They all sent me pretty dresses to choose from for dinner, they were waiting to see which one I chose, as if I would marry them.”

Lucien looked at her incredulously. “Rhysand didn’t mention that. Which one did you wear?”

“I didn’t mention it to Rhysand. And I didn’t wear any of their dresses. Tamlin gave me one of his mother’s gowns to wear.”

The redhead gaped at her.

“Enough of this talk,” she eyed his clothes with approval. “I came to invite you for tea and pie.”

…

Dinner at the townhouse started as a disaster. After hugs and planted cheek kisses, Meridian was questioned and interrogated by the Inner Circle. Meridian had almost decided to toss the feeling of family and strangle them. Meridian was the most calm about the incident at the Autumn Court. They all had colorful words for the Autumn Court and if they were witches with the power to curse, they would surely wake up to the news that Beron and all of his sons—except Lucien— had died in their sleep. 

Meridian poured herself a third glass of wine as she listened to them continue to pour fuel to the fire. “If Tamlin calls himself your High Lord,” Mor spat, “he should’ve done something.”

“He let me borrow a Spring Court dress,” she said. “And he told me he would back me up if I killed any of them.”

“His mother’s dress,” Azriel bit out. 

Meridian gave him a look. She was not sure how much Azriel had reported about the incident, not that she had told him everything either.

“Well I doubt he had dresses on his own wardrobe.”

“What did he say when you told him what happened?” Rhysand questioned.

“He was pissed I didn’t kill him—“

“Stupid as he is he was right for once,” Cassian grunted. 

Meridian rolled her eyes. “You are all so impatient. I will collect on his debt when I see fit. For now he can go on thinking he’s safe. I doubt he will try something for a while. Tamlin did not tell me, but I know he sent a letter to Beron—a warning.”

“At least he’s not completely useless,” said Mor.

“Did they reinstate the marriage proposal?” Rhysand questioned. 

Meridian sipped her wine and looked at Rhysand from across the table. “Eris did. He followed me out.”

Mor cursed loudly. “What did you say?”

This was a corner Meridian would’ve liked to avoid. She had planned to tell Rhysand everything and keep it between them alone. “I refused, of course.”

“If he followed you out to insist on his proposal I don’t think he’ll give up easily,” said Mor. “Meridian, you need to stay away from him and from the Autumn Court. He is not going to give up just because you said no.”

“What aren’t you saying, little witch girl?” Amren arched her eyebrows in interest.

Meridian scoffed at her, everyone was looking at her now. Azriel’s eyebrows were drawn together in concern and aggravation. His lingering shadows darkened around him, pulling tighter around his shoulders and wrapping around the fork he was holding. 

“Did someone else happen?” He asked, voice deep. 

Meridian wished she could disappear in the shadows. “The dress Tamlin gave me was supposed to be a statement. That I am the emissary of the Spring Court and a refusal to their attempted proposal.” She paused, looking down at her plate to avoid Azriel’s gaze. “Eris is under the misunderstanding that I wore the Spring Court gown because I am Tamlin’s mate.”

The clatter of silverware was followed by gasps and then a minute of absolute silence. Meridian could feel the shocked stares and the feelings of conflict and disbelief.

It was Amren who spoke first. “I assume you did not correct him,” she said. “Smart girl.”

Rhysand cleared his throat. “They ought to leave you alone after that. Did you tell Tamlin of this little misunderstanding?”

“No,” she said plainly, meeting his gaze.

“Ah,” Rhysand chuckled in amusement. “That letter Tamlin sent to Beron must have reinforced that idea. Very smart indeed, just don’t marry Tamlin. Family reunions would be very awkward.”

Meridian rolled her eyes, letting go of the tension as she felt the others relax. “I already told Tamlin I won’t be his emissary forever.”

“How did he take it?” Feyre asked.

“Good,” she replied. “I am hoping to have enough trained sentinels and my replacement by Winter Solstice.”

“That’s months away,” Cassian complained.

“Don’t rush me.”

They finally let go of the incident, but Meridian felt the careful glances from Azriel for the rest of the night.

…

Meridian stood in her room alone, Cassian was probably snoring in his bedroom, they had long bid goodnight. But when Meridian searched for a clean set of sleeping clothes, she had found the red bustier set Cassian had bought for her. She had put it on and she stood in front of the mirror staring at herself.

The deep red lace left a little to the imagination. It was crimson embroidered lace over creamy pale skin. Perhaps Meridian should take Mor’s advice and find some quiet piece of land in the Spring Court to bath in the sun rays and give herself some color. It was not as pale as it was when she was in Hybern. She didn’t look sickly anymore, but her skin didn’t used to be so pale before. 

Meridian turned slightly, watching her reflection on the mirror. She turned her neck and stared unblinkingly at the scars visible on her back. There was an idea that had quietly been circling her head. She could mark her back with ink. But the problem was that she didn’t know what markings she would ask for. 

A sudden knock startled the white haired female. She snapped her attention to the window just as another knock sounded. She had closed the curtains but left a slight parting as she usually did. She could see leathery wings. 

Meridian’s heart jumped in her chest. She grabbed the night gown on her bed and slipped it on quickly. She didn’t think Azriel would come. They were not at the House of Wind anymore where he could just slip out of his bedroom and into hers. Of course there was the possibility of him visiting her at night as he did in the Spring Court. But after the unpleasant diner conversation, his mood was grim and brooding. She didn’t think he would come to her. 

She slipped into a silk robe and loosely tied it around her waist and padded to the window. She turned the lock and opened the window, looking at him with amusement. “No song? No poem?”

He held out his hand and Meridian blushed as she took the blue irises. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“I will recite you a poem next time,” he promised with a little smile. “I don’t make a good singer.”

Meridian returned the smile and kissed his cheek. “I didn’t know if you’d come,” she whispered as she pulled away. 

She grabbed one of the decorative vases and went to fill a few inches of water for the flowers. She set the flowers on her desk, next to her sword. Azriel was still standing in front of the window, looking around the room. 

“You should set the wards around your room,” Azriel suggested.

Meridian arched her eyebrows at him, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, are you planning to make me scream?” 

Azriel’s ears turned red at the suggestive tone, drawing out a laugh from Meridian as she lifted the wards with a wave or her hands. Azriel stepped closer, tracing the curve of her smile with his thumb. Meridian’s eyes fluttered close, her lips letting out a pleased sigh as his lips brushed hers. He kissed her tentatively, his lips a gentle brush over hers. 

He pulled away from her lips, his fingers tracing the shell of her ear and continuing down her neck. “You didn’t tell me that Eris believes you to be Tamlin’s mate.”

Meridian grabbed his hand and steered him to her bed. 

“You let Eris believe Tamlin is your mate.”

The white haired female sat down on the bed, Azriel followed hesitantly. “You wanted to know more about me, didn’t you? Well, this is what I do.” She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. “I could see Eris coming to the wrong conclusion about Tamlin being my mate. I did not confirm it and I did not deny it because that misunderstanding was more useful to me at the moment. I twist truths, it’s what I do.”

“What if Tamlin hears about it?” He asked. “What if he gets the wrong idea?”

“I’ll tell him the truth,” she shrugged. “That Eris came to that conclusion alone and I was too busy trying to get away from him to correct him. Tamlin knows I have a mate.”

“You told him?”

She nodded. “That day, when you went to see me and found me and Tamlin talking. The training sentinels were curious about my romantic availability. I told them I have a mate in the Night Court.”

Meridian saw him piece together the bits of conversation he had heard as he hid in the shadows of the trees. “How did Tamlin take it?”

Meridian shrugged. “Good. My mate is part of my personal life, not my job as an emissary, he has no say on it.”

“Did you tell him it was me?” He questioned.

“No,” she shook her head. “It isn’t his business and it’s it like we’re open about it.”

“Does that bother you?” Azriel questioned in concern. “Not telling the others about us?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “The bond is between us alone. We don’t have to tell anyone if we aren’t ready.”

Azriel leaned against her and rested his head on her shoulder. “Can I stay the night?”

Meridian smiled. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Azriel: *on his way to the apartment after buying breakfast* I’ve got everything, now I just gotta set the table, light some candles, set some flowers...  
> *about to open door*  
> Cassian: *opens door* “hey, how did you know I came back early?”  
> Azriel:  
> Cassian: “I didn’t want Meridian to arrive and find no one home—oh you brought breakfast!”  
> Azriel, internally: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> If only Azriel knew what Meridian is wearing under the night gown ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Edit:  
> Welp I’ve been writing more of the Cassian/oc and it’s so angsty I’m mad. Why am I like this? 😭 I feel so bad for her. Her name is Ariela btw and and she’s Illyrian


	28. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian and Azriel can’t keep their hands off each other.

_ Meridian was Azriel again. She was locked in the cell, her wings tucked behind her back, screaming in pain as she was shoved against the wall. It was because she was Azriel that she knew who held her aggressively against the wall. It was one of Azriel’s brothers. Her hands were tied together and panic rose to her throat as the smell of oil penetrated her lungs. They were soaking her hands with oil. The brothers laughed at her, mocked her for what she was, a bastard, a thing of darkness, doomed to never fly—to never use her wings. They lit the match and they did not hesitate to set her hands ablaze.  _

Meridian screamed.

“Meridian,” Azriel shook her awake. “Meridian.”

Her cheeks were damp with tears, her body shaking. It took her a moment to realize her hands were not burning and that Azriel was staring at her with a stricken look of concern. Meridian let out a sob at the sight of him and desperately wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down on top of her. 

“Azriel,” she sobbed, holding him tight against her.

“You’re safe,” Azriel was whispering, trying to soothe her with his smooth voice. But Meridian cried at his words and held him tighter. “You’re safe.”

She pulled away just enough so that she could look at his face and cupped it in her hands. His brows were furrowed and his eyes glazed. Meridian closed her pale eyes and pressed her forehead against his, the images of her nightmare—the images of his memory—flashing across her eyes. 

“They deserve death,” she cried. “How could they—“

“Meridian,” Azriel whispered softly. “You are safe. I will not allow anyone to hurt you.”

Meridian shook her head. She pulled him down against her again so that his face was pressed against the crook of her neck. “I won’t let anyone hurt you either,” she promised, her fingers threading through his dark silky hair. “Ever again.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one comforting you?” He asked as she caressed the nape of his neck. He tried to shift his position but Meridian wrapped her other arm around him. 

“Can we say like this?” She pleaded. “I want to hold you.”

She felt him relax against her. Azriel pressed a kiss to her neck and wrapped her arm around her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Meridian shook her head. “Not right now.”

She suspected for a while that while she dreamed and lived Azriel’s memories, Azriel dreamed hers. It was a thought that had been lingering in her mind for awhile but she chose to ignore it, afraid of what memories of her Azriel had seen in his dreams. The thought made her shudder. Azriel shifted a little and tucked his head under her chin.

She felt guilty for seeing that cursed memory of Azriel’s past. She doubted he would want her to see that moment of his life. Meridian cringed at the thought of him seeing that weak moment of her own life, Azriel would likely feel the same about what she had just seen. It was not something she could control. Meridian had long concluded that her dreams of Azriel’s past were glimpses of his memories sent by the mate bond. 

Meridian breathed in the scent of him and closed her eyes, caressing the nape of his neck as she waited for sleep to claim her. 

...

When Meridian came out from the bathroom to look for a change of clothes, Azriel had already put on his boots. She felt his eyes on her as she opened her dressers and took out her clothes. Deciding to tease him a little, Meridian removed her robe and tossed it on the bed. She slipped the pants under her silk gown and then removed it to put on the shirt. Azriel tensed, his back straightening. 

“You were wearing that?”

Meridian looked down at herself and shrugged before slipping the shirt over her head. She had gone to sleep wearing the red bustier set under her nightgown. 

“Yes,” she said, pulling down her shirt over the red lace. “I was trying it on before you arrived.”

Meridian grinned at the obvious jealous look on his face. She walked over to him and kissed him in the lips. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and pulled lips away from his so she could whisper in his ear. “If you don’t want me to wear Cassian’s gift, buy me something you want to see me in.”

She felt him shiver and pulled away satisfied. 

“I’m hungry,” she stated, changing the topic. “I’m going to find some breakfast. Close the window on your way out.”

She pressed a kiss to Azriel’s cheek before walking off to the door and slipping out of her room. The smell of food hit her as soon as she stepped out of her bedroom. 

When she walked into the kitchen she found Cassian making breakfast. There were sausages, potatoes, and eggs. “Good morning,” she greeted him, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” the Illyrian replied.

Meridian took a sip of her tea, wondering if Azriel would take on the challenge and buy her lingerie to wear for him. The thought sent a jolt of lust through her body. Cassian gave her an odd look, Meridian took another sip of tea.

She helped Cassian serve their breakfast and as soon as they began to eat, the Illyrian questioned her about the previous day’s conversation.

“Does it not bother you that the Autumn Court thinks Tamlin is your mate?” He asked her bluntly.

Meridian shrugged. “I learned long ago not to pay any mind to what others think of me.”

Cassian shook his head. “Rhysand sent word that he wants to talk to you. He’ll be here soon, it bet it’s about that too.”

Meridian rolled her eyes, she had expected as much.

Rhysand arrived after breakfast and Cassian found an excuse to leave. The High Lord and the white haired presumed witch sat at the sitting room across from one another. 

The High Lord looked serious for once so when he spoke she was a little surprised at the question. “Are you and Azriel together?”

Meridian arched her eyebrows. “I expected a scolding, not an interrogation of my love life.”

Rhysand hummed. “It’s heading there.”

Meridian sighed. “We are trying but he doesn’t want me to accept the mate bond yet.”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to make Eris believe Tamlin is your mate?” Rhysand arched an eyebrow. “You realize while it might make them stop trying to court you it also puts a target on your head?”

“I’m not stupid,” she scoffed. “I know the risks. I doubt Eris will tell his brothers and if he tells Beron I doubt he would make a move.” 

“You should be careful,” Rhysand sighed. “If the news spread it won’t do you any good.”

“I am well aware of that,” she huffed. “I know what I’m doing. I never dig myself into a hole I can’t climb.”

Rhysand sighed into his palms. “That’s not all. I wanted to keep you updated about the continent. I asked Azriel not to tell you until you were here.”

Meridian tensed. “What is it?”

“We don’t know if it’s anything yet, but a Hybern trader ship docked in Vallahan. It looks like they were begging for supplies. Your former court did not allow them to set a foot in land. But the current emissary went on board for a talk and reported back to Lord Arron. After a week or so they loaded some supplies and they called it mercy on the hungry people of Hybern.” The High Lord paused, looking at Meridian. “It could be nothing but we have doubled our spies.”

Meridian felt sick. “Arron isn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t side with them.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t,” said Rhysand, looking at her for signs of doubt.

Meridian kept her face neutral as she repeated her previous statement. “He wouldn’t.

...

Rhysand and Feyre were having a night to themselves so the rest of the inner circle planned to go out for dinner and then Rita's later. 

Meridian was taken by surprise when she got out of the shower and found lingerie laid out for her on the bed. It was black and blue lace, the blue of Azriel’s siphons. There was a note and Meridian smiled as she read it.

_ Will you wear it tonight? _

Meridian slipped on the lace high waisted panties and hooked the matching lace bra. There was also a bag from the boutique. Meridian sat there in nothing but the new lingerie, looking through the items in the bag. 

There was a blue garter lingerie set, with a satin gown to go over—that too, was the blue of the Illyrian’s siphons. There was a floral pink bustier set and a black garter set that was most revealing of all. Heat licked at the pit of her stomach just thinking about wearing them all for Azriel.

Meridian wanted to tease him more so she wore a blue dress that defined the curves of her body. She painted her eyelids dark and let her hair down in waves. If only the shadows still sang for her and lingered around her…

She shook her head. She was not a shadowsinger anymore, it was best to let go. 

  
  
  


They had dinner on the balcony of a restaurant, overlooking the beautiful streets of Velaris. Cassian had sat next to her and Azriel had to settle for sitting across from her. He had given Cassian an irritated look, the other Illyrian had not even noticed, but Amren had curled her lips in a knowing smirk. Fortunately, she was too busy with her prince to throw suggestive comments. Mor was sitting at Cassian’s other side, also annoyed at him when she asked him to let her sit in between and the Illyrian refused—likely just to annoy her. 

Meridian had caught Azriel staring several times throughout dinner. His shadows kept on reaching for her, twirling around her leg, caressing her thigh. It was driving her to an edge, heat pooling at the pit of her stomach. 

She was getting restless and horny, thus she was elated when Varian asked for the bill. The walk to Rita’s was short. They went inside and as they did, Meridian felt Azriel’s knuckles brush against her side. She shivered and moved closer to the touch. Their sneaking touches were interrupted as they reached the bar and Cassian threw his arm around her shoulders.

“Do you want to dance or are you having a drink first?”

“I’ll have a drink.”

“I got it,” said Azriel, trying to hide his annoyance. He ordered drinks for all as they sat in the stools. 

The bartender started their drinks right away, starting with Amren’s wine.

“Mer-Mer, when are you going to wear the red things I bought you?” Cassian asked.

Azriel went intimidatingly still besides her. “I have worn them,” she replied. The bartender set down her drink and then Azriel’s. “Just not for you.”

Azriel drowned down his drink in one go. Cassian arched an eyebrow at his brother and turned back to Meridian with a pout. “Who did you wear them for?”

“None of your business,” she shrugged and sipped her drink.

Mor pushed Cassian away and slid into the stool next to her. Morrigan clicked their glasses together and they each took a sip of their drinks. Azriel hadn’t taken his seat at the other side of Meridian, he stood hovering beside her, his knuckles caressing her hip. 

“Let’s finish the first,” said Mor, referring to their drinks, “so we can go dance.”

Meridian nodded in agreement and sipped her drink, trying to keep herself from leaning closer to the shadowsinger. Amren and Varian disappeared into the dance floor first. 

Azriel silently sipped his second drink, his face revealing nothing while he rubbed Meridian’s hip with his fingers. Meridian spared him a look and the shadowsinger’s lips twitched, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Meridian wanted to kiss the sneaky smirk off his face but she had to settle for drowning her drink. 

Mor finished hers and dragged Meridian to dance. Meridian could still feel Azriel’s knuckles caressing her sides and his fingers rubbing her hipbone. She wanted to get back to him and she wanted to leave. The apartment was much more quiet and there was no need to sneak away touches. They could do as they wished in her bedroom. 

Finding her way back to Azriel was not so easy. Mor stayed with her, ignoring the males that tried to approach her. When the blonde finally let one whisper in her ear, Cassian took her place. It was not until over an hour later than Meridian managed to excuse herself to the bar without Cassian following her. 

When she reached the bar she found a good looking female flirting with Azriel. The shadowsinger was tracing the rim of the glass at his right. It was a strawberry mixed drink. He was not looking at the female, who was putting much effort in leaning forward to show her cleavage.

Meridian saw his lips move but she didn’t hear what he said and the flashing lights made it difficult to read lips. But she heard the female’s response. “If I was her I wouldn’t have left you here all alone.”

Meridian scoffed. She walked over to the shadowsinger, her heels silent, her back straight. She slid between the two with ease, forcing the female back before she could even blink at her. Meridian didn’t bother to spare her a look. She took the drink from Azriel and took a sip. The spymaster placed a hand at her hip and pulled, parting his knees so that she could rest between them. 

“I—We were having a conversation.” She had guts.

Meridian turned to her as if she had barely noticed her presence. The female shuddered when Meridian’s silver gaze landed on her. The white haired female then turned to Azriel and back to the female. “It seems like he isn’t interested in continuing the conversation.”

The female’s face went red. She turned away and left. Meridian felt pity for her. She couldn’t blame the female for wanting to talk to Azriel. Yet, she did not feel enough pity or guilt to apologize or not do it again. 

Meridian took another sip of her drink and a little of it spilled down the side of her mouth when Azriel ran his finger down her spine. She turned to face him and he was smoothly quick to catch the drop of strawberry flavored alcohol with his lips. He kissed her chin and jaw and when he pulled away there was a hint of a smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t you say anything. Take me back to the apartment or I’m leaving by myself.”

She did not have to tell him twice.

…

The moment the door closed, he had her pressed against the door, but Meridian wasn’t having it. She kissed him roughly and pushed him off. She held his chin and licked her lips. “Bedroom.”

“Up,” he said as a warning before lifting her up and carrying her in the direction of her bedroom. The door opened with a crack and shut with a thud. 

Azriel laid her down on the bed and kissed her desperately. His hands were gripping her thighs, parting her legs so he could fit better between them. 

“Will you show me?” He said in between kissed as he made his way down her throat.

Meridian pushed herself up from the bed and used her heel to push him off her. The shadowsinger let out a whine that had his face turning red when he realized the sound had come from his throat. Meridian smirked and looked down at her heel expectantly.

The spymaster cleared his throat and carefully removed each heel and tossed them to the floor. His finger trailed up her calf to the back of her knees and her thighs. He reached for the zipper at her side but she shook her head. She pulled him down on top of her and then swiftly turned him on his back, straddling him. 

She could feel his arousal through his pants. Her lips curled in a satisfied smirk. Meridian‘s fingers tentatively reached under his shirt, tracing the muscle. Azriel’s wings twitched, as if pleading for attention.

Meridian pulled away. “I will not show you if I’m the only one removing my clothes.”

She sat at the end of the bed, staring out the window. The bed shifted, but Meridian didn’t turn at the rustle of clothing or when she saw his shirt drop to the floor. He came to her, his bare skin warm against her arm, his lips kissing the back of her neck as his fingers waited at the zipper waiting for permission. 

Torturing a little longer, she shook her head and pushed him down the bed. Meridian crawled on top of him, straddling him. She touched her fingers to his chest, tracing his Illyrian tattoos, admiring them for the first time. The Illyrian started getting restless under her touch, she could hear his breathing and feel his hardness. 

Meridian lifted her hips and slowly started to lift up the dress, the light fabric caressed her skin as she slowly removed it, pulling it over her head. She did not miss the hitch if Azriel’s breath as it came completely off and she tossed it aside. 

Azriel was staring at her, his lips parted, cheeks flushed. He rested his palms on her knees, watching for her reaction as he slowly moved his hand up her hips. “Meridian,” he whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

Coming from anyone else, Meridian would have smiled cordially at the compliment. But it was Azriel and the way he was looking at her was making her blush. 

“You have good taste,” she said, his fingers were tracing the patterns on the lace she wore. “I like the blue.”

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said, still in a daze.

Meridian forgot her response as his hands moved up her back, past the high waisted lace. She involuntarily flinched when his fingers touched her bare back. Azriel immediately stopped, lowering his hands to her hips. Meridian remained frozen, trying to regain control of herself.  _ What if he touches your scars and feels disgusted? _ A panicked voice shouted in her head. 

“Meridian,” Azriel whispered.

She did not respond. The shadowsinger kept a firm grip on her hips as he sat up, to keep her on his lap or to hold her from bolting. 

“Meridian,” he whispered again, this time to her lips. He cupped her cheek with his palm, still holding her hip with the other. “If you don’t want me to touch you, it’s okay. It's okay if you’re not ready.”

“The scars,” her voice cracked, “are not pretty.”

Azriel brought her face down to the crook of his neck and kissed the top of her neck. “Mine are not very pretty either,” he said. His hand found hers. She could feel his scars. “Yet, you don’t seem to mind them at all.”

“You were strong enough to survive that,” she said. 

“Precisely.”

“Tian went soft after he saw them.”

“Who—“Azriel let out a dragged breath. “I wouldn’t be put off by you even if you wore lingerie with Cassian’s face on it.”

Meridian let out a laugh, though she knew what he was doing. She relaxed against him as his hand slowly trailed up her back, past the lace. He’s fingers touched over her scars. Azriel moved her hair to the side and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. 

The shadowsinger trailed his fingers down her scarred spine and pressed up against her as he did, so that she could feel how hard he was under her. 

“Now I’m going to be really disappointed if all we do is go to sleep.”

Azriel smiled against her neck. “I have something in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Cassian was probably getting glared out the whole chapter without knowing. Poor baby. 
> 
> The next chapter is a little smutty. I hope I can post it on schedule but sometimes smutty chapter take me longer to write. 
> 
> Also, some do you might have noticed already but for those that haven’t... I did it! I posted the Cassian/oc fic and it is in the same universe as this fic. So Azriel and Meridian are a thing.


	29. The Feel of Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meridian and Azriel finally get some relief from the agonizing sexual tension.

Azriel laid her down over her back and kissed her, slowly opening her lips to brush his tongue against hers. Meridian complied, wrapping her arms around him and moaning at the intensity of his kiss and feel of his hands gripping her thighs to part them open and fit better between her legs. 

The shadowsinger licked the inside of her mouth until she was out of breath. When he pulled away he wore a little seductive smirk, that Meridian had trouble deciding if she wanted to kiss it or punch it off. But she forgot all about it when he put his sneaky lips to use, wrapped around her breast as he brushed his tongue over her lace covered nipple. His fingers caressed the insides of her thigh, the shadows that lingered around him twirled around her skin. 

The shadowsinger moved on to her other breast, licking it slowly, grazing his teeth over her nipple and making her hiss. The caressing fingers at her thigh brushed over her hip and drew a line across her stomach.

His fingers inched closer to the place where she ached the most. “Can I?” His whisper was smooth and dark like his shadows. 

“Yes,” she gasped. 

Azriel licked a stripe up her neck just as his thumb brushed over between her legs. Meridian tangled her fingers on his hair as he began to rub her over the lace. The shadowsinger teased her with feathery touches that made her desperate for more. Meridian responded with moves of her own, pushing herself up against him, forcing the Illyrian back into a sitting position. She kept her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap and found his lips quickly, kissing him slowly and teasingly. 

Her tongue brushed against his and her body arched against him, feeling his hardness under her. The shadowsinger groaned, grabbing her hips firmly as she pressed herself against him again. 

Meridian pulled away from the kiss to whisper in his ear. “The lingerie is so pretty,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his jaw, “but I expected it to be off by now.”

She felt the jolt that went through the Illyrian, the twitch of his wings and his fingers, the interested nudge of his hardness against her, and the grip of his hand on her hips. He lifted his hands behind her back and his fingers found the hooks of her lace bra, he pressed a kiss to her throat as he pulled them undone. His fingers moved slowly up her back to her shoulders, the brush of his fingertips raising goosebumps across her skin. Then he slowly pulled the straps of her bra down her arms, kissing her throat and caressing her skin with his fingertips as he did.

The straps came completely off and the shadowsinger tossed the lingerie aside. He kissed down her throat to her chest and pulled away to look at her bare. The look of his eyes made her want to squeeze her thighs together in need. 

Azriel trailed his fingers up, caressing her sides until he reached her breasts, his touches were deliberately slow. Meridian felt a little desperate, but she enjoyed the feeling of his slow caresses. His fingers were rough, but she loved the sensation of them on her skin. They made her skin buzz with excitement and heat pool at the pit of her stomach. The shadowsinger traced the shape of her breasts with his fingertips, making her shiver.

Meridian looked down at his face and found that his eyes were closed. It must have been the mate bond that made her aware because in the needy state she was Meridian was not thinking much, but somehow she knew that his eyes were not closed in pleasure or because he didn’t desire seeing her. She knew that his eyes were closed because the sight of his burned hands made him feel unworthy of touching her. 

Meridian grabbed one of his palms and brought his fingers to her mouth. Azriel gasped at the sudden gesture, his eyes wide open and staring at her. The female stared back at him as she sucked his fingers, feeling his other palm twitch as she brushed her tongue around the fingers in her mouth. She kept her eyes on his as she pulled them out and brought them to her breast, herself gasping as his wet finger brushed over her nipple. 

“It’s better if you watch, isn’t it?” She whispered.

Azriel groaned. “You really like pushing me to my limits.”

Meridian smirked, though it was quickly wiped off her lips as the shadowsinger replaced his fingers with his mouth, licking and sucking her breast. The female tangled her fingers on his hair, letting out small gasps and moans as Azriel’s tongue licked her nipple. 

The shadowsinger switched over to her other breast, giving it the same attention and instead of using his other palm on the other, he trailed his fingers down her front and traced the lace panties she wore. 

Azriel looked up at her as if asking for permission. She kissed him in response. The Illyrian proceeded to slip his hand inside her panties, swallowing the moan he drew out of her. His fingers were warm and rough and it was embarrassing how needy she felt for them. 

The Illyrian started kissing down her throat and made her chest flush when he whispered against her skin. “You’re really wet.”

She gripped his shoulders tightly, biting her lip as his mouth found her breasts again and his fingers rubbed her between her legs. He rubbed her experimentally at first, teasing her folds and her clit and when she felt drenched, he pushed his fingers inside slowly. 

Meridian didn’t know if it was because Azriel was so good at it or because he was her mate, but his touches were making her feel so good. Perhaps it was all the built up tension that made the release she was finally getting feel so quivering good. 

Azriel’s fingers worked into her and his thumb was rubbing at her clit in delicious ways. His fingers were long, reaching deep inside her and though they were slender like an artist’s or a musician, they were just as talented. He would thrust them deep inside her and she squeezed around them and her breath came in short gasps, he would slow down and delay her orgasm, only building it up more and more. He would focus his attention to her clit then, rubbing the bundle of nerves and teasing her folds before entering again. 

“Azriel,” she whined, digging her nails into his shoulders as he thrust his finger hard and fast. 

He moaned around her breast and kept up the pace. Meridian tossed her head back, her back arching against him when she felt his teeth over her breast, he did not bite down hard over her nipple, but it was enough to push her to the edge.

“ _ Azriel _ ,” she panted.

The Illyrian pulled out his fingers and rubbed clit as she rode her orgasm, his mouth still around her breast. Meridian slumped against him. Azriel pushed her down on the bed and laid down next to her.

“What about you?” She panted. 

Azriel brushed her hair back from where it stuck to her forehead. “I’m good. Watching you was enough.”

Meridian blushed. Once she had cooled down and her breathing returned to normal Azriel moved closer to her.

“Tell me about your life in the continent,” Azriel requested, drawing patterns on her skin that felt like the irises he had bought her the previous night.

“What do you want to know?” She asked.

“Everything.”

Meridian watched the way his wings lazily stretched and relaxed over the spymaster, covering them like a blanket. “I remember living in a small cottage in the mountains. They were brutally cold in the winter, but fun to explore in the summer. I don’t remember much about my parents. My mom had dark hair—my hair was just like hers. Her eyes were green like the forest. I had dark eyes like my dad and my brother had my mother’s. My brother, Garen, he loved adventures. He would take me with him to explore the forest around the house. He would carry me on his back when I got tired. My mother was a Pearlwitholder and so was Garen. He used to put his dreams in pearls and give them to me.”

“Is the one on your sword his?” Azriel asked softly.

“Yes,” she said. “The last one he ever gave me.”

“He sounds like a kind, caring brother,” said Azriel. 

Meridian smiled softly. “He was.”

“I would’ve liked to meet him,” said Azriel. 

The female felt tears slide down the sides of her face. “If he had lived, I wonder how many things would’ve been different. I became what I had to become to survive, but I was only five. I did what I was told. My brother, he nursed hurt animals, I don’t think he would’ve had the heart to kill. My life might have been so different and perhaps I would’ve not ended up here.”

Azriel was silent for a moment. Meridian closed her eyes, not expecting him to say anything else. His words were a tender surprise. “You would’ve ended up here, perhaps sooner or perhaps later. But you and I, no matter how many possible paths we could’ve taken, we know we end up together in every single one.” 

His words left her speechless and she pretended the tears that slid down the side of her face were still from the remembrance of her past. She tried to keep her heart from beating abnormally in reaction to his words because his head lay too close to her chest. But he must have felt the skipping rise of her chest because he looked up at her. 

“Is this the poetry you promised?” She asked. 

The Illyrian smiled and scooted up, tucking his face against her neck. “Are my attempts at courting so bad?” 

His lips brushed her neck as he spoke. Meridian cleared her throat with a scoff. “Is that what you are doing? Properly courting me?”

Azriel hummed. “I’d say improperly, given all the times I’ve slipped into your bed.”

Meridian sniffled a laugh. Azriel watched her laugh with a smile and swallowed her giggles with a kiss to her lips. “I like it when you laugh like this,” he said and kissed her again.

“Do you ever laugh like this?” She asked. “Or are you always so gloomy?”

The shadowsinger made a face. “I am not gloomy.”

Meridian chuckled. “You are always so serious.”

She pulled at his mouth, stretching it upwards into a smile. Azriel bit the tip of her finger and then grabbed her hand with his, pinning it down as he pulled his weight up to hover above her. He kissed her then, licking and grazing his teeth over her lips. Meridian shivered at the feeling. She was not ready to admit that the feeling of his teeth anywhere on her skin made her want to whine in need. 

Azriel kissed her until she was out of breath and then continued kissing down her throat. Meridian was starting to feel heat pool at the pit of her stomach again. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she gasped as he licked up her throat. 

The shadowsinger pulled back to look at her. “Are you questioning my stamina?” He arched an eyebrow, looking offended yet smug as he pressed down on her.

Meridian felt him getting hard again and stared at him as if surprised, while using his distraction to sneak her free hand down his waistband. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he echoed her words.

Meridian gave him a smug smile. “I am not one to back down.”

She slipped her hand into his underwear and pulled out his hardness, watching Azriel’s eyes close, lips parting as she took a firm grip of him. He was hot and growing in her hand. He had said that watching her had been enough, but she wanted to return the favor. Meridian wanted to please him the way he had. 

The female stroked his length and pressed her thumb over the head, feeling the heat herself when she heard Azriel moan. Meridian turned her wrist slightly and started up a pace, stroking her mate’s length. She could feel the heat spreading through her. Meridian wanted him, she wanted to properly mate with him. It was making her skin flush and her already drenched panties more wet. But she did not want to go that far if their mate bond was still not properly accepted. So for now she would return the pleasure he had given her early and take her pleasure from watching Azriel come undone by her. 

Meridian watched his expressions, changed the angle of her wrist and adjusted it depending on the grunts and moans and pants coming from the Illyrian. The arm he had been using to keep her other hand pinned and himself propped up gave up, bringing him down on her until he propped up his elbow. Meridian kissed right below his jaw and resumed her strokes. 

The shadowsinger kissed and licked her neck and when his teeth grazed her skin she shivered and picked up the pace. 

“Meridian,” Azriel moaned, his breath brushing her neck. “ _ Meridian _ .”

She brushed the head with her thumb. She could feel him getting closer, so she licked a stripe up his neck and applied a little more pressure to her strokes. 

“ _ Meridian _ .”

The shadowsinger came, spilling over her hand and stomach. His body went weak, but still managed to keep himself up as Meridian stroked him three more times. Meridian pushed him to his side and kissed his shoulder. 

She needed to go wash up but she didn’t want to get up as she was starting to feel weary. After two minutes, she forced herself up from the bed. “I’m gonna wash up,” she kissed Azriel’s lips before getting up. 

She made it quick, washing her face from the makeup she had worn and rinsed her body quickly. She wore clean underthings and slipped on a silk nightgown. 

When she returned, Azriel was changing the bedsheets. He was wearing clean underwear. The female arched her eyebrows at him. “Did you bring them just in case?”

Azriel glanced down at them and shook his head with a sigh. “I stole them from Cass.” 

Meridian let out a laugh. Azriel pulled her to him and kissed her. “He will never find out. He’s passed out on the couch.”

“On the couch? Should I help him to bed? He’s going to wake up with a stiff neck—“

Azriel kissed her again. “Don’t worry about him, he has slept in worse places.”

The female bit her lip, holding back a giggle and pressed her finger in between Azriel’s brows to smooth out the frown. How could a big Illyrian male be such a baby, pouting like a child that demanded all her attention. Said Illyrian hoisted her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed.

He crawled at her side, his arm around her and his face resting on the crook of her neck. Meridian smiled contently, running her fingers through his hair. Azriel made a pleased noise and placed a kiss to her chest. 

As the shadowsinger closed his eyes, shadows fell over them, darkening the room. The shadows didn’t sing for her, but she could sense them. 

“I told you about me,” she whispered tentatively. “Will you tell me about you?”

“There isn’t much to tell,” said Azriel.

Silence took over them for several minutes. She wanted to know about him but she didn’t want to push him. Meridian had told him about herself when he asked, but she knew it was not easy. Meridian had shared the good memories she had of her family. Azriel had none.

Meridian thought he had fallen asleep, but he stirred, burrowing his face against her neck, his breath ghosting over her collarbone as he spoke.

“I was born a bastard son of an Illyrian lord. My father’s wife hated me. She kept me in a cell with no windows or light. My half-brothers called me a monster and found any chance to torture me. It was them who set my hands of fire,” he paused. “I was eight. Then when I was eleven they dumped me in Windhaven and I met my real brothers. I learned to fly and I learned to use the shadows instead of fear them.”

Meridian caressed his face with the tips of her fingers and held his hand with her other, resting their intertwined hands on her chest.

“I had many nightmares after that,” said Azriel. “But one night I dreamed of a girl of shadows. She had dark hair and eyes and she fought darkness with darkness. She was scared but not of the shadows. I used to be scared of the shadows. I believed my half-brothers when they said I was a monster. I would see the shadows come to me and sing and whisper, and believed myself a monster. But that girl, she was not scared of the shadows. She made the shadows hers…It was you, the girl, I think it was you.” Meridian knew the moment of her like he was referring to. When she was fifteen she had fought a creature of darkness and death and in reward she earned Shadow Caller. “I thought it was a dream. But Rhysand told me that when he was Under The Mountain he saw Feyre before he knew her.”

“I was fifteen,” she whispered. “It’s when I got my sword.”

“You are older than me?” He sounded surprised.

Meridian chuckled. “Yes. Didn’t Rhysand tell you? Whenever I bested him on something he used age as an excuse.”

“You didn’t visit my dreams again,” said Azriel. “I thought it had been nothing but a dream made up by my mind. But during the war, there was one night I woke up from crying shadows. Their songs were of despair for the fallen Lady of Shadows.” Meridian felt his tears on her neck. “After the war Rhysand told me about you. A shadowsinger who was stronger than anyone. A friend he had lost in the war.” Meridian closed her eyes and felt her own tears fall. “I didn’t know you were my mate. I thought it was because you were a shadowsinger like me that the shadows had come to sing of you to me.”

“Perhaps it was not the right time for us to meet,” she whispered, though she wished they had met then.

“I was more gloomy back then,” he said.

Meridian chuckled and kissed the top of his head. Azriel hummed and placed a soft kiss to her collarbone. His wings stretched lazy and covered them protectively. Meridian didn’t have the energy to keep her eyes open anymore. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be drifted into darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!
> 
> I hope this was smutty enough. Sorry for the wait but life is so busy and I am so tired all the time. I’m also really slow at writing smutty scenes. 
> 
> The night Azriel was woken up by crying shadows was when the King of Hybern took Meridian to the cell. She was fed faebane and the wards on the cell didn’t allow her to call out to the shadows. 
> 
> Meridian is like 7 years older than Azriel. I was planning to make her about ten years older but 7 makes sense if Azriel was eight when they burned his hands and he dreamed of Meridian shortly after that. Meridian was fifteen when she got Shadow Caller, which is what he saw in his dream. 
> 
> Also, as I wrote this I had the thought that If it was an omega/alpha/beta verse. Meridian and Azriel would both be alphas.


	30. Unexpected Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel and Meridian make plans to be alone for once, but their date is ruined by the Autumn Court finally agreeing on a High Lords meeting.

When Meridian woke up the next morning, Azriel was already awake but his limbs were still tangled with hers. He had moved up the bed, now it was Meridian who was tucked against him. His fingers were drawing patterns on her back again and she didn’t know if it was her own mind playing tricks, but she imagined he was drawing irises with the tips of his fingers. Meridian debated if she should tell him about the tattoo she was considering or surprise him with the ink on her back next time he undressed her. 

“What are you grinning about?” Azriel asked, his voice husky.

“It’s a secret,” her voice was groggy with sleep. 

Azriel hummed and wrapped his arms tightly around her, his warmth spreading through her body. She wished they could stay like that all day. Meridian wished that she could wake up to the warmth of his body and the tips of his fingers caressing her skin every morning. 

_ How much longer? _ She wanted to know but didn’t dare ask. She had told herself she would be patient and there was still a lot she didn’t know about Azriel. There was no rush. She no longer had the insecurity that he still felt something for Morrigan or anyone else. Not Morrigan, not Elain, and certainly not the female from last night.

“Have you had many lovers?” Meridian asked bluntly.

Azriel’s hand found his sneaky way to her thigh. “I don’t think this is a good conversation to start off our morning,” he said avoidantly. 

Meridian lifted her face to look at him. “Why? Is it that many?”

“They weren’t really lovers,” he cleared his throat. “There were no feelings involved.

Meridian huffed. “Don’t tell me you were going around breaking hearts.”

Azriel groaned, covering his face with his arm. “I was not. I didn’t—I was always very clear about not involving feelings.”

“Oh no,” she gasped. “You totally broke their hearts!”

The shadowsinger turned his body, pinning her under him. “Let’s not talk about this,” he protested against her neck. “If we continue, it will eventually lead to your relationships.”

“Arron was my only lover,” she stated plainly.

The Illyrian groaned again. “Don’t mention it.”

“It isn’t news to you,” she said, her fingers treading through his hair. 

“Yes but I cannot decide whether I want to know about it or not,” he mumbled. “What if he comes for you?”

“I wouldn’t go with him,” she answered without hesitation. “I ended things with him centuries ago when he chose to do nothing.”

“He doesn’t see it that way,” said Azriel. “If he knew you were alive he would search for you and he would likely propose marriage.”

Meridian knew that his conclusion was not without basis. If Arron knew she was alive he would ask her to return and now that he was the lord, he would not need to hide their relationship from anyone. “It doesn’t matter because I would not accept.”

“He can give you everything,” said Azriel. “He would treat you like a queen. He would give you a crown and have everyone bow to you. I cannot give you that.”

Meridian dropped her hand. “If I want someone to bow to me I will bring them to my knees with my own hands. I do not need a crown. I am not a queen, I am a warrior.”

“You deserve everything,” said Azriel.

“I have more than I ever had before,” she said honestly. 

A loud banging at her door interrupted them abruptly. “Breakfast is ready!”

Azriel sighed and lifted himself up.“I will see you for lunch.”

Meridian sat down on the edge of the bed as he put on his shoes. 

“Azriel,” she reached for his hand. “I am being serious. I do not want anything from Arron. I don’t want a crown. I prefer to hold a sword and stand beside you.”

Shadows crossed over his features and pulled him down to her. He pressed his face against her chest and breathed in as his arms went around her. 

“We are all having lunch together,” said Azriel. “But for dinner, let me take you somewhere. Just the two of us.”

“I’ll wear something nice.”

Azriel kissed her lips and got up to go. Meridian stood and walked to the window as he flew away, his scent all over her. His touches still lingered on her skin. Meridian forgot all about breakfast. She filled the bath and soaked in, her eyes closed as she relived Azriel’s touches on her skin. 

Her fingers reached between her legs and she gasped Azriel’s name.

…

Rhysand and Feyre returned at lunch instead of dinner. They had news and though they were technically good they also ruined Meridian and Azriel’s plans. The shadowsinger looked visibly annoyed as Rhysand explained that Beron had suddenly agreed to meet at the Dawn Court to discuss the treaty. The date had been set for the following day. All the other High Lords were irked by the sudden demand, but they had agreed nonetheless. 

“I have to return to the Spring Court,” said Meridian.

Azriel tried to hide his bad mood, but Rhysand noticed right away. “It is clear he expected us to be unable to meet at such a short notice and he planned to reject other dates.”

“He better be ready to sign the treaty,” Mor gritted out. “If he is making everyone drop everything to go tomorrow he better not refuse.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “Are we all going?” 

“The limit is five per court,” said Rhysand. “Amren will stay.”

The female raised her glass of wine. 

Meridian was already thinking of who to take from the Spring Court. Amir, Orson, and Rion were the best, but someone had to stay to watch over things. There were many possibilities as well. Someone could try to infiltrate in the Spring Court while they were away. If she took the best, it left the borders weak. She couldn’t take any of them. She needed to discuss it with Tamlin, think of the best option together which would likely be for only the two of them to go.

“I need to go,” said Meridian. “There is much I need to discuss with Tamlin.”

“That old bastard had to pick the worst moment,” Mor complained, and by the looks of it Azriel agreed.

Meridian kissed everyone goodbye and when she left the town house, she saw the dejected look on Azriel’s face when it was Cassian who was going back to the apartment with her to get her things. Meridian stopped outside and turned to Cassian. 

“You don’t need to come with me,” she told him. “I am just going to grab a few things and go. You should stay and discuss tomorrow.”

Cassian sighed but nodded in agreement. He hugged her and kissed her cheek before going back inside. Meridian hoped Azriel would receive the message and walked to the apartment. She took her time, giving him enough time to find a reason to slip away. 

He did. When Meridian arrived at the door, the wards she had set around the apartment informed her of a friendly presence. When she entered the apartment, Azriel was sitting on the couch. He looked up when she closed the door and started to get up, but Meridian walked to him and pushed him back down. She straddled him and he welcomed her desperately. His palms found their way to the low of her back and their lips connected. 

Meridian wrapped her arms around him and kissed him profoundly. “I want to kill Beron,” she said when they pulled away from one another.

Azriel kissed her jaw. “I doubt Rhysand will be angry about it.”

Meridian hummed. “I’ll seriously consider it.”

“I’ll help you,” Azriel chuckled and kissed down her neck.

Meridian closed her eyes, relishing on the feeling of his lips on her skin. “We could make it so that no one ever suspects us,” she mused. “We could sneak into the Autumn Court, kill him, and sneak out before anyone notices.”

“No one better than us to commit the crime,” he agreed, his hands sneaking under the spring dress she wore. 

Her breath hitched as his rough hands caressed up her thighs. The shadowsinger grazed his teeth over her pulse point and his hands continued to caress her skin, finding her lace pantines fascinating. 

“Do not tease me when I have to go,” Meridian groaned. 

“You could stay a little longer,” Azriel suggested, his palms spread over her panties. 

“You know I must go,” she said, though she wished she could do as he suggested. 

Azriel kissed down her chest and used a hand to undo the top three buttons of her dress. Meridian could feel her panties starting to get wet and a fire burn at the pit of her stomach. She was waiting for his fingers to touch where she needed it the most, but she knew she should be leaving now. The shadowsinger trailed kisses down the swell of her breasts, his tongue teasing her skin every now and then. 

“Az,” she gasped. “You know I must go.”

Azriel groaned, pressing his forehead against her chest. “I could visit you tonight?”

Meridian was tempted to tell him she would keep her window open, but she couldn’t. “You know we can’t. Not tonight. There are many preparations to be done.”

“Will you come back,” he pleaded. “Once the meeting is over and done with?”

Meridian pressed a kiss to his lips. “I will try, but it all depends on how the treaty negotiations go.”

Azriel kissed her again. “Come back when you can,” he requested. “If not, I can come to you.”

Meridian nodded. The shadowsinger let go of her, pressed one last kiss before she got up. He followed her to the bedroom and watched her grab her weapons, helped her strap her sword, a dark contrast against the light dress she wore. 

He kissed her goodbye as she stepped out the apartment, his face gloomy as she winnowed away to the Spring Court.

In the Spring Court she found Tamlin in front steps of the manor, he looked up when she arrived. “You came.”

“Of course I come,” she said, shaking off her longing. “I am your emissary and there is much to discuss before tomorrow.”

…

As she had concluded, the best choice was to leave all the sentinels behind. She had discussed with Tamlin their options and he had come to the same conclusion as her. Orson would be left in charge and every sentinel was to be alert and in position all around the borders. They had also discussed the situation with Vane and Unan. The Summer Court guards had offered to stay in the manor after their shifts if the meeting ran for days as Rhysand and Tamlin had predicted. 

They rose at dawn the following day. Meridian wore her leathers and left her hair loose. She had used two rose pins at her sides and Sienna had insisted on curling her hair. The maid had then convinced her to add a touch of color to her face. She had used a warm blush on her cheeks and had used a midnight black to line her top lash line. 

She had her weapons strapped, her two throwing blades, the golden blade, and her sword. Tamlin was going over things with Orson and Amir when she went down. Tamlin wore his usual clothing, but his weapon belt was empty.

The three males looked at her—stared—when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m ready.”

“You look good,” Orson blurted. His cousin elbowed him. “I mean, you look intimidating and beautiful—you—“

“Thanks,” said Meridian. “That’s the look I was going for.”

The sentinels bowed and left. Tamlin eyed her weapons. “As I got dressed I thought it would be best if we went unarmed.”

Meridian blinked. “Unarmed. Completely unarmed?”

Tamlin nodded. “Beron will find any excuse not to sign, even claim he is being threatened.”

“If something goes wrong, how am I supposed to protect you without weapons?” She asked.

Tamlin arched his eyebrows. “You don’t need to protect me. I do not need weapons to fight and I know you don’t either.”

Meridian shook her head in protest. “There will be High Lords and warriors from other courts, I will not be able to properly fight without weapons.”

“Unless there is a plan to assassinate me I am not aware of, I don’t think my life will be at risk,” he said in amusement.

Meridian scoffed. “Don’t you try to be funny.”

Tamlin sighed. “If it comes to it, I can fight perfectly fine without weapons and I will protect you.”

The female scoffed again. “It is my job to protect you.”

Meridian’s intention at the Spring Court might have been to fix Tamlin and his court for the benefit of the High Lord and High Lady she was loyal to. They needed him to protect the borders to the human lands, so she had worked hard to fix the broken High Lord and his court. Meridian took her job seriously. She was good at separating emotions from work and even if the inner circle hated Tamlin, Meridian would protect him from the Autumn Court and any other court. 

She was loyal to Rhysand and Feyre and if they told her that they wanted him dead she would kill him, but they had not. Thus, she would continue to serve as his emissary and that mandated her to protect Tamlin and ensure his safety. 

Meridian had served Lord Terron, had protected him and Arron with her whole being. The thought of attending a High Lords meeting without weapons made her walk up the walls, but for the looks of it, Tamlin had already decided. 

“Fine,” she sighed. “As you wish.”

She pulled out her twin throwing knives and set them at the small round accent table next to the stairs, then proceeded to the adorning golden blade and lastly her sword. Meridian turned to Sienna who was descending the stairs with a basket of laundry. “Please return my weapons to my room.” The maid nodded her head. “Do not touch my sword with your bare hands.” She added.

Sienna looked a little startled at the last comment and eyed the sword apprehensively. 

“Shall we go now?” 

“Let’s go,” Meridian agreed.

  
  


They were the third Court to arrive, the Summer Court and Night Court were already there. Thesan was very pleasant as he welcomed them. Feyre and Rhysand sat next to each other, looking regal and intimidating. Cassian, Morrigan, and Azriel stood behind them. 

The High Lord of the Summer Court had come with his cousin Varian. There were three guards behind them. Tarquin nodded his head at her in acknowledgment, Meridian nodded back. Tamlin did not look in the direction of Feyre and Rhysand, he placed a hand at Meridian’s shoulder and guided her to their seats. He waited for her to sit down, and then sat down after her. 

As soon as they sat down, the Winter Court arrived. The High Lord and his wife were followed by three guards. It was Meridian’s first time meeting Kallias. She had known the previous High Lord, but they had only ever exchanged a few words. 

A few minutes later, the Day Court arrived. Helion glanced around the room, not a bit surprised as he said. “Beron has not arrived?”

“I suppose he wants to be last,” said Rhysand. 

But as Meridian glanced at her High Lord she knew he had the same suspicion, Beron was not planning on attending. Helion glanced around the room again, Meridian turned her head to Tamlin, but it was too late.

Helion walked over to her. “Tamlin, I hear you have a new emissary. Won’t you introduce us?”

Tamlin looked like he would rather not speak at all, but he got up and Meridian followed. “This is Meridian. Meridian this is Helion, the High Lord of Day Court.”

Helion arched his eyebrows, he looked her up and down and his lips curled into a smirk. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Pleased to meet you, again. I apologize for not recognizing you at first glance.”

Meridian smiled cordially at him and pulled her hand away. “I take no offence.”

“You have met,” said Tamlin, trying to read them. 

“In the war,” she explained.

“I thought you died,” said Helion.

“I was on vacation,” she said plainly. “In the torture chambers of Hybern. I would not recommend the place.”

“Ah,” Helion nodded. “For the sake of formality I won’t express how hurt I am you did not come to my court. You win this one Tamlin.”

Meridian suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Tamlin gave her a questioning look as Helion turned to his seat. Meridian shook her head dismissively and sat back down. From across the room, she could feel Azriel giving her the same look and Rhysand masking his laugh with a cough. 

The minutes ticked by, Thesan ordered for refreshments as it became clear that they would be waiting for a while. At the half hour mark, the High Lords were clearly annoyed and impatient. It was clear that Beron did not plan on attending, but no one wanted to say it. 

Tamlin was tapping his foot impatiently. She could feel his sour mood and the anger rolling off him. Meridian touched his knee. “Think clearly.”

The High Lord stopped and took a deep breath. Meridian was as annoyed as they were, but her posture and expressions remained calm and patient. 

After a few minutes, Tamlin leaned over her, he pushed her hair behind her ear and whispered his plan. Meridian felt a surge of anger within her, but it was not hers, it came from the mate bond, from Azriel who appeared to be frozen in pace as he stared at them, while his insides were a dark storm of fury. 

When Tamlin pulled away, she stared back at him, considering. “I am unarmed,” she whispered.

Tamlin shook his head. “You do not need to come. I will go alone, you stay here.”

Meridian gave him an incredulous look. “No.”

Her tone was enough to let him know that he would not convince her to stay. “Come then. I will protect you if necessary.”

Tamlin got up, drawing the attention of all the High Lords. Meridian got up with him. “I will bring Beron,” was the explanation he gave.

“Does anyone have a spare blade?” She asked.

At once, several males turned to their weapons belt for a blade they could do without. But before Cassian could toss her a blade or one for the Summer Court guards could unstrap a knife, Azriel was at her side, placing True Teller on her palm. 

Meridian stared at him in shock. No words came out of her mouth, she simply nodded at him and wrapped her fingers around True Teller. She turned to Tamlin, the High Lord placed a palm over her back and walked her away. Meridian tried to control her beating heart, worried he would feel it’s accelerated beat through her back. 

Her grip on True Teller felt right. It felt familiar as if she had held it all her life. It was the right weight and grip for her hand. 

Tamlin eyed the weapon on her hand, an understanding coming over his features. He said nothing, simply holding onto her as he winnowed them away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are well appreciated!!
> 
> Nothing is more romantic than planning the assassination of a High Lord together  
> ( ˘⌣˘)♡(˘⌣˘ )
> 
> Tamlin: *gently pushing Meridian’s hair behind her ear to whisper his plan*
> 
> Meridian: (◠‿◠✿)
> 
> Azriel, outside: ┐( ˘_˘ )┌
> 
> Azriel, inside: (°ㅂ°╬) (ง’̀-‘́)ง
> 
> Rhysand: (°◡°)
> 
> Meridian, feeling the mate bond:  
> (¯ . ¯٥)
> 
> Sorry my updates have been slow (╥_╥) It’s so difficult to find time to write with work. I write at night, it’s when it all comes to me but work has me dead and I actually fall asleep instead of staying up writing. I literally just finished this chapter right now. 
> 
> I think I mentioned it before but the reason my updates used to be on schedule was because they were prewritten. When I posted the first chapter I had already written the first 15 or so. 
> 
> I’ll try to keep up. Sorry 🥺❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think. Kudos and comments are well appreciated!


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